


The Turtleduck Pond

by ImperialArchangel



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Original Character(s), Zuko Angst, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialArchangel/pseuds/ImperialArchangel
Summary: Zuko has wandered the sea for almost six years now; six years spent searching for the Avatar, and six years spent empty handed. Ba Sing Se has fallen, Sozin's Comet has come and passed, and the world has passed him by. After years of searching, though, his quest for the Avatar has finally come to an end. The reason for this, however, was not one he expected.





	1. Into the Bog

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is Imp speaking, pleasure to meet ya all. this is my first fic on this site, so sorry if I have some issues getting used to the formatting. (any help is appreciated) So, I've always been quite the sucker for romances, and a well constructed AU is something I love to see, so... yeah, here I am. Hoping to make this a slow-burn romance adventure, with weekly updates, 10pm Beijing time. Here's the first chapter, so please enjoy!

The small metal landing crafts reached the shore, their forward-facing gangplanks smashing against the rocky beach. Soldiers in coal black and blood red armor rushed off the ships and onto the beach, wielding spears, swords, and fists of fire. Near the treeline, several paces away, burly men with thick, corded muscles and faded green and tan robes stand their ground, their stances wide and stable as they propel massive boulders towards the oncoming charge.

The steep, jagged cliffs on either side of the beach sheltered the small bay from the fridget, choppy waters of the Hu Sea. The bay was shallow and calm, with a narrow entrance, a fact that made Zuko snarl. Unlike many of the others he had been to, the bay made it impossible for him to navigate the small settlement’s port, though, looking at it now, it wouldn’t have been much use anyway. There was a dock, but the tiny, rotten thing could barely house the two fishing boats drawn into port, let alone his cruiser. So, in the end, he was forced into his current situation: a messy process which involved storming the beach, using the two transport craft that were usually just used to ferry small cargo to and from the shore. 

So, it was without surprise that he was in such a fowl mood as he led the landing. He sidestepped, twirling to his left to avoid a flurry of fist-sized stones, before correcting his stance and punching forward, letting loose a jet of flames and an animalistic war cry. 

There weren’t very many earthbenders here, only seven or eight, it looked like, meaning that his own benders weren’t outnumbered. There also were a few non-benders, though, at least fifteen or twenty. It wasn’t easy for Zuko to count, since avoiding being flattened took quite a bit of focus. 

“Die, ashmaker!” A boy, no older than sixteen, ran at Zuko, his large club poised over his head and ready to strike. He brought the club down, aiming to smash the prince’s head open.

Zuko ducked and sidestepped, snarling, his eyes narrowed like those of a weasel-snake ready to strike. His leg connected with the boy’s legs, and momentum did the rest of the work, causing him to lose his balance and fall forward. Without missing a beat, Zuko spun on his heel and planted his foot solidly in front of him, delivering a series of aggressive strikes in the form of fireballs. 

Unsurprisingly, His soldiers were making fast progress in subduing their opponents; half the earth kingdom militia was already on the ground, scorched into submission. These men were professional soldiers after all, and this was not the first time they had had to storm a beach. Their opponents, on the other hand, were just a militia, and one for a village that was so far removed from the rest of the Earth Kingdom that Zuko doubted it had changed much between the start and end of the Hundred Years’ War.

In fact, Zuko wouldn’t have been surprised if not a single person here had seen more than half a dozen Fire Nation soldiers in their entire life. The village itself had been a hassle to track down, with no maps bothering to label such a small settlement in such an obscure part of an already sparsely populated, rocky island. There was only one small foot path through the mountains that led to it, apparently, and Zuko had only found this bay because of the directions of one particularly loose-lipped merchant who had come to the town a few times. It was perhaps the most isolated place in the world, short of the south pole itself.

And because of that, it was the perfect place for the Avatar to hide. 

A satisfied smile came to Zuko’s face. It might just be a rumor, but it made sense that the master of all four elements would choose to reside here, so far from the rest of the world. After all, the Earth Kingdom had already fallen, so what were they supposed to do other than hide?

The battle was already beginning to dwindle. Most of the non-benders defending the village had been defeated, and the earthbenders were faltering. Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko saw one of the earthbenders gesture towards the treeline.

“Everyone, retreat! Get back to the village!” The villagers still able to fight froze, looking towards the earthbender, then fled into the evergreen forest. But the earthbender who called for the retreat did not move, holding a strong stance and blasting clusters of rocks at Zuko’s soldiers. He stamped one foot, and a wall of ashy grey sand roared forward, like a tsunami of dirt that only grew larger as it rolled towards the tight formation of fire nation pikemen. 

Zuko bared his teeth, and rushed towards the lone earthbender, attempting to close the distance before the older man could react. All he needed to do was clear the dozen paces between the two of them and get within striking distance while the man was focusing on Zuko’s soldiers. With any luck, the man would be too distracted to notice the prince.

Of course, Zuko was unlucky, and his opponent was apparently very perceptive. This shouldn’t have been a surprise, some earthbenders were known to be able to detect attackers from the vibrations of their footsteps alone. It was just a rumor, though, and this man probably just had a well-honed battle sense. Zuko narrowed his good eye and dropped, rolling forward, just barely dodging a wave of stones that would have lodged themselves in his neck and chest. 

From the roll, Zuko spun and kicked, slicing open the air with a scythe of orange fire, and using the momentum to push himself back to his feet. Two quick punches and another kick continued to add to the surge of flames, ready to crash over the earthbender.

But the stream of fire never reached its target. He turned on his heels and stamped his foot, bringing up a tall wall of sand. The flames shattered against the wall, thin wisps of fire blowing back from it, and the earthbender punched towards Zuko, causing the wall of earth to fly towards Zuko

Zuko attempted to dodge, but the attack was too wide, too fast. It happened too fast for him to even consciously realize; the wall of sand and rock smashed into him at full force, undeterred by the fire Zuko hastily flung at it. The impact felt like he had been body slammed by a stone golem, sending him flying before gravity promptly dragged him to the ground. 

He just laid there for a moment, all of his breath beaten out of his lungs. The sun was setting in the distance, scattering deep reds and calming oranges across the waves. The beautiful colors blurred together as his eyes drifted in and out of focus, the intensity of the light painful.

He had to get up. The fight wasn’t over.

His bones ached from the dull throb of his pulse, and his limbs refused to follow his commands. 

His soldiers were fighting without him. He had to lead them.

His sore muscles screamed as he forced them to move.

He was taken down by a single hit. He was weak. Slow. Disgraceful.

His arms shook as he pushed himself up, His head spinning.

“Prince Zuko!” He felt a firm hand grab his shoulder. “Are you injured? Let me help you up.”

“Don’t!” Zuko snapped, whipping around and smacking the hand away. “I am not a weak child! I can get up myself!” He brushed the sand off of his face, the ash colored earth having worked into the crevices of the angry red scar on his face.

Lieutenant Jee took a step back, the concern in his eyes hardening into a glare. “Yessir. The beach is ours, so we should be able to bring the Kimono-rhinos to shore if you so choose.” Jee watched Zuko stand up, scowling, and removed his black helmet, revealing the man’s long sideburns and stormy gray hair.

“The last earthbender fled?” 

“No, sir, we captured him.”

“Wonderful.” Zuko didn’t even spare a glance for Jee, his words dripping with venom. He stalked towards his soldiers, several of them holding the last earthbender to the ground, the man’s arms and legs pinned to his back.

He had failed. He had been knocked to the ground, and had to rely on his soldiers to handle the situation for him. He doubted Azula had ever had issues like this. He scoffed and grimaced. Azula would probably just have struck the earthbender with lightning, and then have set him on fire for good measure. That would be just like her, doing overkill just to show she could do what Zuko couldn’t.

Zuko careful stepped around the bodies of unconscious villagers as he made his way to the captured earthbender. Now that he was no longer fighting for his life, Prince Zuko managed to get a better look at the man, or at least as good of a look he could get with the man forced to the ground. The man was balding, with a thick salt and pepper beard and a few thin hairs covering the dark leathery skin on the top of his head. Zuko squatted down in front of the man, balancing on his toes and glaring down at the peasant who had embarrassed him. “Where is he? The Avatar?”

The man twisted his head and spat on Zuko’s black boot. “Like I’d tell you. Get the hell away from my village!”

Zuko’s face scrunched up, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You dare treat a member of the Royal Family with such disrespect?”

“Or what, you’ll kill me? Like that’s gonna help you find the Avatar.” The man sneered. “I faced death against your soldiers on a daily basis during the war, and I’d rather be scourched than betray my people!”

Zuko growled gutturally, and grit his teeth. “If you don’t show me where the Avatar is, I’ll burn your entire village, and everyone in it, to the ground.” Zuko’s voice was little more than a hiss, but a weasel-snake’s hiss is can be just as terrifying as tigerdillo’s roar. “Understand..?”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but froze, and closed his mouth again, refusing to meet the prince’s eyes. The man nervously licked his lips, and a bead of sweat trickled down his face. Zuko’s eyebrow twitched.

“Fine then.” The young prince stood up, his impatience finally getting to him. “I’ll do it myself. Men, comb the woods for the village, it should be close! Capture the villagers that fled, and search each and every house there. I don’t want a single crevice unchecked.” He turned on his heel and began stalking towards the evergreen woods. 

“Wait!” The man shouted, suddenly panicked.

Zuko kept walking. “I gave you you’re chance. You’re too late.”

“Wait! Wait, please, no!” The man wiggled and resisted, trying to get free. “Please don’t! I can show you where he is!”

Zuko paused, and lifted his hand, stopping his soldiers from entering the forest. “Where?”

“Promise you won’t burn down the village if I tell you!”

Zuko scoffed, and rolled his eyes, but the man remained silent, his eyes locked on the young prince.

“... Fine.” Zuko’s nostrils puffed and he scoffed, but he relented. “I swear on my honor that I won’t hurt anyone in your village.”

“Oh, thank god…” The man let out a sigh of relief, but his tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows revealed how nervous he still was. 

Zuko jerked his heads towards the two soldiers, and the two promptly released the man and took a step back, their ivory, skull-like masks cast in long, purple shadows from the sunset. Zuko watched the sunset with suspicious eyes.

“Hurry up, old man. I don’t have time to waste.”

 

The walk to the man’s village wasn’t a long one, with a narrow dirt path weaving through the thick forest, but Zuko couldn’t help but try and walk faster. Each step he took, the fire in his veins only seemed to roar larger, and the knife in his stomach twisted a bit more. Six years at sea, six years of watching the world pass by him, almost over. In mere minutes, he will have captured his prize, the man who avoided capture by the Fire Nation for over a century. Even the peasant admitted to having the Avatar here, and the man had no reason to lie about it. 

He smiled, reveling in his achievement despite the heavy stone in his stomach. He could see it already; returning to the Fire Nation again, the tsugi horns singing the hymns of his return, the crowds cheering. He would finally get to feel the warm wind on his face again, smell the delicate balance of pollen and salt that drifted in the air, and feel the soft grass under his feet as he fed the turtleducks. But, nothing would compare to seeing his family. After six years of not hearing from him, Father would come to greet him at the docks, smiling at his son’s accomplishments. He would congratulate him for his hard work, and for truly proving himself as a worthy son.

All he had to do now was secure his prize. Despite the embarrassment on the beach, having been unable to defeat the peasant currently leading the way, today had been a good day. Even the world itself seemed to think so, with the full moon’s pale white light intermingling with the warm hues of the fire that playfully danced in Zuko’s palm, casting a pleasant light throughout the forest of ferns and evergreens. The night time air was cool against his skin, a comfortable forebearer to cold fall and winter months that were quickly approaching. Zuko slowed his breathing, warming himself with his breath, and simply listened to the sounds of the forest, the crunching of foliage underfoot and the chirping of insects. While he most certainly prefered the tropical mountains and warm seas of home, he supposed that this place wasn’t too bad.

“This is the village,” The earthbender spoke up, breaking the silence, “But we’re just passing through. The Avatar lives further inland.”

“How much farther past the village?” Despite his excitement, Zuko’s voice was harsh, and the old man swallowed.

“Not too much farther, I promise.” 

“It better not be.”

The man wisely chose to not respond, and the man led the group of firebenders through the village wordlessly. He hunched over, and avoided the terrified stares of those hiding in their houses. They peaked through the doors they had just slammed upon seeing the approaching soldiers, their curiosity overtaking their fear like a child discovering a dead animal for the first time. It reminded Zuko of when he was a child, back at the palace, when he still had a home.

 

“Zuzu, look at this!” Even as a child, Azula’s smile was sickly sweet, and always made Zuko uncomfortable. 

He carefully made his way towards the turtleduck pond, watching his younger sister with nervous, distrustful eyes. “What is it? You better not be trying to trick me again!”

Azula rolled her eyes, waving him off with one hand. “Well fine then, if you don’t trust your sister enough to look at what she found, then you don’t need to see it. It’s your loss.”

Despite Azula only being a child, she was anything but innocent. Her dark gold eyes hid the mind of a trickster, and her neatly combed hair, tied into a topknot, helped complete her image as the perfect daughter. Zuko seemed to be the only one that realized that Azula was a mischievous prankster, with everyone else thinking she was perfect.

Zuko bit his lip, and came closer to his sister, peering over her shoulder. There, resting on the bank of the pond, was a turtleduck. But something seemed off about it, something seemed wrong. It was completely motionless. Zuko cocked his head and leaned closer.

It’s feathers, normally smooth and the color of honey, were matted and stained black and brown. Its head was twisted back unnaturally, and it’s mouth hung slack.

“What’s… What’s wrong with it..?” Concern laced Zuko’s voice, unable to break from staring at it.

“It’s dead, dumbdumb.” Azula scowled, as though her older brother had just asked if fire was hot. She turned back to the turtleduck, and reached out, poking the body. “Isn’t it cool?”

The young boy gasped, and grabbed Azula’s wrist, pulling her hand away from the dead turtleduck. “What are you doing!”

"Touching it, obviously.” The girl pulled her hand away from her older brother. “Father said I could look at it after it stopped moving, so I am.”

“You watched it die?” Confusion and revulsion tangled together in his voice. “Why didn’t Father try and help it?

“He said it was pointless.” Azula answered, too interested in poking the corpse of the animal to look up at her brother. “He said that turtleducks fight with each other to see who’s in charge, and this one lost. Even if we helped this one, it would die soon anyway. It’s too weak.”

Zuko didn’t know how to respond to his sister. That logic felt… wrong. It seemed too cruel, too heartless to be right. So he just sat in silence, watching Azula move and stretch the bird’s broken wings.

“Hm… I wonder...” Azula tilted her head slightly, looking at the bloody bite mark on the bird’s neck. “Are we like turtleducks, Zuzu?”

 

“We’re, uh.. We’re here.” Zuko was dragged out of his thoughts by the earthbender. They had long since passed the village, trudging deeper into the forest. The trees had become denser, with only a few meager beams of moonlight piercing through the thick covering of tree branches, and Zuko could see his breath linger in the air, the temperature falling as the moon rose. The land had gradually become wetter and softer, and Zuko noticed with some surprise that they were standing on the edge of a large bog, the surrounding area dotted with small ponds and completely sprinkled with clusters of trees.

“Where is he?” Zuko squinted, trying to make sense of what was before him. The moonlight, so calming and enlightening mere minutes ago, now felt cold and eerie, hiding and disguising more than it revealed. Everything in the bog seemed to be made of shadows and silhouettes, everywhere potentially a hiding spot for the Avatar. 

“It’s here,” The earthbender said quietly, his head hung and his voice filled with regret as he pointed to one of the larger clusters of trees near the center of the bog. “There’s a small hut he lives in." The man choked on his words. Zuko supposed he could understand why; the man had just betrayed his village. But looking at it another way, he just saved his village. Sometimes the best choice for a weak turtleduck is to submit to the new pecking order.

Zuko looked towards Lieutenant Jee, the soldier’s mask glinting in the ghostly white light, and jerked his head towards the outcropping of trees. “You know your job.” Jee nodded, and began marching towards the house, the other firebenders following behind him. In their sharp black armor, they looked like the vengeful spirits of legends, roaming the bogs and swamplands for innocent men and women to drag down into the fetid water, never to be seen again. Zuko looked back towards the earthbender, locking eyes with him. “If you’re lying, I will make you pay.”

The man gulped, and nodded unsteadily. “I.. I know…”

Zuko grunted, his lip drawn into a sneer, and marched towards the hut, leaving the earthbender to be guarded by his pikemen. “Good.”

A loud splash from the other side of the bog broke the relative silence, and Zuko’s head whipped towards the sound reflexively. “What was that?”

The earthbender listened for a moment, before answering. “Probably an animal, a catgator or horned toad.”

He sounded genuine, not to mention scared, but Zuko watched him with wariness. “You three, go investigate that area. I don’t want to leave any chances for the Avatar to escape.” Two pikemen nodded, as did one of the firebenders, before beginning the trek around the bog.

Zuko quickly crossed the marshland, making it to where his soldiers had encircled the hut. It was a stout little building, made of half rotten wood and held together with mud. There was a bull-deer pelt hung over the small entrance, and the orange glow of a fire emanating from inside. Zuko allowed himself one last smile for the time being. After all, how could he not? He was finally going home.

He nodded at his soldiers, communicating his orders without a word, and the took their stances, ready for battle. Zuko took a deep breath, and stepped forward, pushing aside the pelt, and entering the small hut.

A fire flickered in the center, and a small bed made of moss and sticks rested to one side of the hut. A well carved walking stick leaned against the wall beside the door, and a small bag of food sat beside the fire. But the hut was empty.

The Avatar was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko felt like an worn out paper puppet, the type that had been used to tell pointless stories to children for far too many years. The paper was curling, the ink was fading, and it’s joints were far to stiff, but day after day, it would be placed on stage to recite it’s lines, praying for a different result, only to be met with the same stale story.

The prince rubbed his heavy eyes, pushing his weariness for at least a bit longer, and watched as the dull yellow light of dawn peered over the nearby mountains. It cast long shadows of the jagged, forested peaks, leaving the bog caught between the blossoming morning light and the ebbing midnight darkness. He licked his dry lips, and turned away from the glaring beams, instead choosing to watch his soldiers as they slowly made their way back to the bog. As more of the men returned, many of them in grass stained and waterlogged armor, it became clear that they had not been successful in the least. Zuko grit his teeth, and tugged at his hair, his hands unwilling to be still.

“Lieutenant, report.” Zuko muttered, his voice lacking its familiar punch.

Jee gave a curt nod, large bags under his eyes. “We’ve found nothing, sir. We searched house by house, the entire bog, and combed most of the nearby forest. The Avatar is gone… If he was ever here to begin with, sir.” The last statement was almost added as an afterthought, his eyes closed as he lifted his head, basking in the rising sun.

“Of course he’s here.” Zuko spat, his voice dropping dangerously low and his lips stretching into a snarl. “I can feel it in my bones. He’s so close, but he slipped through my fingers.”

Jee took a deep breath, and let out a drained weeze. “You haven’t even seen the man yet. Why are you so sure it’s the Avatar?” 

Zuko raised an eyebrow, and turned to face the officer. “Are you questioning me, Lieutenant?”

Jee didn’t respond to the prince’s aggressive tone, simply giving a weary shrug as he let the warm sunbeams cascade onto his face. “No, sir. I’m just worried for the men. They’re exhausted, and we haven’t even found a trace of this man all night. I believe that we should return to the ship.”

“Well, since they are my men, I believe I should be the one to assess that, Lieutenant.” Zuko glared at Jee with malice, but glancing at the men, it was apparent that Jee was right. Regardless of Jee’s lack of proper respect for royalty, Zuko had to begrudgingly agree with him. Looking at his soldiers, most of them were asleep on their feet, leaning against rocks or trees for support as they dozed off. They hadn’t rested at all since they landed on the beaches, most of them longer than that even. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and just focused on the feeling of dawn against his skin. It was invigorating, like when he came up from below deck and breathed in the fresh morning air after sleeping in a cabin that smelled of burnt incense, oil, and steel. He knew that his father wouldn’t approve of him finding joy in something so simplistic, but he found it to be a small blessing amidst his dejection and misery. 

He just stood like that for a moment, his eyes closed, not unlike his lieutenant. Zuko’s mind was hazy, slow and cumbersome like the hippo-cows of his homeland. The energy that came with dawn had helped slightly, but without sleep it was just greasing the gears of an engine that was running out of coal.

The Avatar had been hiding in this shackhere in the bog, it seemed, but had left...

… Which means he had to have given warning from one of the villagers…

… Was he still hiding in the village..? No, no, he would have fled. They had searched the village for him already.

Nearby? Almost certainly. He had left his belongings in his hut after all. A staff or walking stick of some sort, a bag full of clothes and trinkets, some scrolls of waterbending; not exactly anything that screamed “master of all four elements,” Zuko had to admit, but the waterbending scrolls caught his eye. No earthbenders would’ve had them, and while Zuko wasn’t as knowledgeable on other cultures as his uncle, he had, unfortunately, seen enough Northern Water Tribe warriors in action to recognize their distinct style of bending. 

Regardless, it was obvious that, unless he wanted to interrogate every single person in the village as to where they hid the avatar was, he wasn’t going to make any fast progress. His soldiers were exhausted, and even if the Avatar was nearby, he could almost certainly defeat a half dozen half asleep firebenders. That, of course, is assuming they could find him at all. The bog was a confusing maze of evergreens and peat moss, and the Avatar is a master of stealth. Zuko hated to confront the fact, but his soldiers would have to withdraw for the time being. Going back to the ship, though, would nullify the advantage of surprise that he had been relying on, and would give the Avatar enough space to flee the area, if he hadn’t already.

Even in the tender embrace of the sunlight, the prince couldn’t help but scowl, his eyebrows furrowing as the problem forced its way through his mind’s rusted gears. His risking his soldier’s safety for a chance at finding the Avatar, or risk losing track of his prize after searching for years, in order to secure his men's’ safety? He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his heavy eyes tracing the bog’s treeline, as if the solution would simply wander out of the woods like an unattended deer-calf.

Instead, his eyes fell upon the Avatar’s wooden hut. A hut filled with the Avatar’s personal belongings, ones that he had left in a hurry. Ones that he would almost certainly want back…

An idea niggled at the back of his mind, a small spark that slowly was growing bigger, like a flower in bloom. A dry smile tugged at his lips. Even if the Avatar was to flee, he undoubtedly would want his precious scrolls and trinkets. And so long as there were Fire Nation soldiers in the area, he wouldn’t risk entering his hut. 

“Lieutenant, I need to deliver a message to my uncle. Fetch me a messenger hawk.”

Jee grunted, obviously not wanting to end his rest in the sun, but nodded. “Yessir.”

“And as for you…” Zuko’s gaze shifted over to the earthbender from yesterday, who had been reduced to a messy heap of dirty, torn clothing curled into a ball against a tree several paces away. The young prince approached the villager and squatted on his toes, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking it hard enough to wake the man up. 

“Your name.” Zuko did not phrase it as a question.

The man’s eye were unfocused, slowly pivoting as to try and understand why he wasn’t at home.

“I asked for your name,” Zuko repeated, and realization dawned on the man’s face as he heard the question again.

“Y-” The man’s words caught in his throat. “Yugang! Yugang Guan!”

“I see.” Zuko pushed away the urge to close his eyes, and forced a vicious sneer. “I’ll remember that name well, because you are the man responsible for delivering a message to the village leader.”

The old man whimpered, seeming to shrink smaller against the tree. Zuko paused for a moment, seeing the fear in the man’s eyes. Zuko’s stomach twist into knots, and he considered his next words carefully. As a prince, he had the responsibility to appear strong.

“Tell him this: I know you’re hiding the Avatar. I know someone in your pathetic village is helping him, and you should know that you’re going to pay dearly for it. But instead of burning you all to the ground, I’m going to occupy this village until whoever is responsible tells me where the Avatar is. I am in charge of this village now, understand?”

The man swallowed his pride and nodded, scampering down the path to the village, which Jee understood as his queue to step forward. “Your messenger hawk, sir.” 

Zuko nodded, and accepted the hawk onto his arm. He pulled a rolled up sheet of paper out of the hawk’s tube, as well as a small brush and a vial of black ink. He jotted down a quick message, using a large stone as a table, before inserting the paper back into the tube and releasing the hawk. 

“Lieutenant, issue new orders to the troops as they arrive. They are to guard the bog until the men from the ship arrive. After that, they will return to the ship and rest.” He began stalking down the path, not even bothering to glance at Jee as he left. 

Jee scowled, watching the young man leave. “... Yessir.”

 

Qiuhua stripped off her soaked clothes and collapsed onto her bed, too drained to even care about the consequences. 

Moss and rancid water getting on her sheets? She could clean it later. The fact that she smelled like the swamp itself had puked her out? A minor detail. Right now, all she could think about was lady sleep’s lullaby, which wrapped around her like a motherly hug, and urged her to shut her eyes, even if just for a bit. And her ancestors knew she wanted to close them for a bit longer than that.

She might have been soaked to the bone, cold, and tired enough to sleep for a decade, but spirits her bed felt like heaven. She had been running around and hiding in the bog all night, trying to make sure the avatar didn’t get caught by the firebenders that had attacked the village. While she appreciated that he could bend two elements, he was also just a ball of nervous energy that had no idea what “stealth” even meant, so avoiding all of the soldiers sweeping the forest for him had been Qiuhua’s job. She felt like, with all the close calls they had, she should either offer an extra sacrifice to the spirits for making sure they didn’t get caught, or curse them for making there be so many near misses in the first place. It was a massive peat bog, not a small grove, so why did the soldiers always manage to stumble into their hiding spot?!

She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and her chest relaxed. It was over now, at least. A few soldiers had landed earlier in the day and were still roaming the village, but it was obvious that they had no clue where the Avatar was. All they had to do was wait for the firebenders to give up, thinking the Avatar had fled. 

Darkness had crept well past the corners of her vision, and time seemed to move like honey down a log. She might have drifted to sleep a few times; she wasn’t really sure. What she was sure of, however, was the sound of someone slamming open the door to their house. 

“Qiuhua!” Even while half asleep, the girl recognized her mom’s strong, if shaky, voice.

She tried to respond, but her limbs were made of stone and her tongue felt too dry and brittle to form words. She opened her mouth, but time seemed to pass too quickly, and her mom was already grabbing her shoulders and pulling her off the bed, engulfing Qiuhua in her soft arms.

“Oh thank the spirits,” her mother cooed, rocking back and forth as she caressed the girl’s long, stiff hair. “I tried to look for you when the soldiers reached the village, but you were gone… Oh, my baby, I was so scared… Where did you go..?”

Qiuhua almost didn’t respond, her mind unable to process all of the sounds and movement, but she finally forced out a few brief words, like a child using a loom to weave crude designs. “It’s ok, Mom… I just had to go make sure he was safe…”

“Of course you would… you’re my brave little girl, always wanting to help…” The older woman let out a long, relieved sigh, and Qiuhua didn’t need to look to know there was a wide smile on the woman’s face. Her mom was like a platypus-bear, fiercely protective of her cubs, and she had no doubt that her mom had turned the entire village upside down looking for her. Her chest twisted a bit at that thought, and a bittersweet smile came to her face. Sometimes, her mom worried too much for her own good.

For a few minutes, or at least what seemed like a few minutes, they simply sat on her bed, her mom gently swaying. Finally, though, her mom slowed, and broke the silence. “Is there any particular reason you smell like a swamp monster..?” 

Qiuhua had to giggle at that, and her mom chuckled as well. “Ah, well… I had to hide with the Avatar. And you know how he lives in that marsh…”

Her mom was quiet for a moment, looking down at the ground. “Did you bend at all?”

“No, Mom.” Her voice was beginning to finally become her’s again, with the words coming out more easily. “We were just hiding. He occasionally had to bend the swamp around us so we could go underwater, but I didn’t use my bending at all.” As much as her mom worried, the idea to use her bending never crossed her mind last night. At least, not in a serious way.

The older woman sighed, a concerned smile still playing at her lips, and stood up from the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up, ok? We’re going to have a busy day.”

Qiuhua groaned, and rubbed her eyes. It seemed her brief rest was already over, and she had to get ready. Her mom pulled her off the bed, and led her to the a large stone tub behind the house. She slipped into the cold water, and her mother began to brush the knots and leaves out of her sandy hair. She tried her best to scrub everything off, but there always seemed to be another layer of slime and scum coating her skin, leaving her to give up when it seemed no more of it would come off. Normally she enjoyed her baths, but this time, the icy water just seemed to sink into her bones. She shivered as she climbed out of the tub, and stretched her arms, shaking away her lingering fatigue.

“Ok, dear,” Qiuhua’s mom shouted from the house, “I’m going to head to the temple and get to work. Come as soon as you’re ready!”

“Okay!” She shouted back, wrapping herself in a towel. She made her way into the house, and slipped into her pale green shrine maiden outfit, before stepping out the door and hightailing it to the temple. Qiuhua furrowed her eyebrows in concern, already knowing why today was going to be busy. While she was tired, she doubted her mom got any sleep at all…

The sun hung high in the pale blue sky, white light cascading onto the dark jade tiled roofs of the village. Huisha had never been a big town, never even comparable to the hussle and bussle of the big trade towns like Omashu and Gaoling. On the rare occasion that a merchant would visit her small village, Qiuhua would listen to their stories for hours on end, entranced by their tales of far away lands and big cities. Of course she loved her home, and some people believed it immature, but who wouldn’t be excited to hear stories of new places? 

But a common theme was how small Huisha was compared to the rest of the world. She had never left her village, and yet she already knew that her entire world was just a small piece of what existed. This didn’t really bother her, since she did love her village; she knew everyone here, from Grandma Wang, who made the best noodle soup in the village, to little Ai-ai, who was just born a few months ago. The whole village was her family, and she loved it.

Which is why the entire village felt so wrong right now. The village center, lined with stalls and usually filled with a scattering of people, adults chatting and kids playing ball, was completely empty. Grandma Wang’s noodle stand, where she would make sure any passerby had a full stomach, was deserted. The wisps of quiet conversations that normally lingered in the air were gone, leaving Qiuhua with only an oppressive silence and the sound of her sandals slapping against the soft dirt path that weaved between the houses.

In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of two men in dark black and red armor stalking through the streets. Her stomach tied into a proper seamen’s knot, but she clenched her jaw, forcing down her fear. The two were simply standing in the village center, standing guard against the absent villagers. One turned her direction, and nudged his fellow guard’s shoulder. Qiuhua gulped down the bile gathering in her mouth, trying to ignore the dark stares coming from within the skull-like masks, and walked faster. 

Eventually, she reached the temple, a stout, wide building nestled into a small clearing at the base of the rocky cliffs. A grand caldron, made of rough black iron, stood in front of the temple, with several sticks of incense poking through the thick layers of ash settled within the caldron. The entrance of the temple, decorated with tile carvings of both the history and legends of her village, faced the dark sea, and a field full of short, stone totems stood in rows behind the temple. The familiar setting would comfort her, were it not for the dozens of men lying inside of the temple. If nothing else, it allowed her to push the images of soldiers out of her mind.

She hurried inside, greeted by the sight of two women treating yesterday’s injuries. Some men were sleeping, others were being treated, but many were just waiting, using the musky old Paisho table settled in the back of the temple or playing with a well worn set of playing cards. One man groaned in pain as the older of the two women treated his burns.

“Bai, I need to have another batch of that salve, pronto! For spirit’s sake, where is Chen?” Qiuhua’s mom was no longer the same platypus bear she was before; now she carried with her the commanding presence of the Sea Serpent.

“She’s at the well!” Bai, the pottery maker’s wife, responded, her voice betraying how distracted she was as she focused on wrapping a large bandage around one man’s leg.

“Still? How long does it take to get a bucket of water?” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am!”

“Don’t be sorry, just finish dressing that burn! An infection there could make him lose that leg.”

That didn’t help Bai focus at all, it seemed, her hands quivering as the young woman tried to figure out what to do. Qiuhua could see the woman was on the edge of tears, and she couldn’t blame her. Some of these men were going to lose body parts if she messed up.

Qiuhua weaved through the crowd of patients, to the mat that Bai was working at. The young shrine maiden gently grabbed Bai’s hands, steadying them, and Bai gasped, her head snapping towards the intruder. 

“Oh ancestors, you gave me a heart attack!” Bai gave her friend a weak, but thankful, smile.

“It’s ok, I’m not gonna bite.” Qiuhua returned the smile, and took the bandages from Bai’s hands. “Not today, at least. I’ll take care of this for you.”

“Thank you!” Bai bowed her head deeply, her shoulder length hair cascading downwards like a muddy waterfall. “Your mom just showed me how to treat a burn once last night, and told me to help her…”

“No problem, I got this covered.” Qiuhua’s eyes hardened, focusing on the angry red burn on the man’s thigh. Even if she treated it perfectly, it was going to leave one hell of a scar, and that was assuming she could treat it perfectly. Her hands started to move with the smooth motions that only came after doing a task for years, like a weaver that had spent their entire life practicing the loom, and her mind began began listing ingredients. “Bai, grab me that dark green salve off the shelf, and that jar of pink leaves. Have you rinsed it yet?”

“Uh, y-... yeah, I made sure to.” Bai struggled to her feet, looking to find what her friend had asked for. “But, where did you run off to last night? It was chaos in here, and other than you mom, no one in the village knows how to treat burns like these.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Qiuhua responded halfheartedly, too fixated looking at the nasty yellow gung gathering at the edges of the burn to actually listen. "While you’re over there, grab me the knife. This ain’t looking pretty.”

“Knife?” The young man they had been operating on spoke up, his voice wavering. “Why do you need a knife?”

“You got this burn yesterday, and it’s already infected.” She took a wet cloth from a bucket and began wiping the grim from the edges of the wound. “I’m gonna have to trim the infection.”

“You’re gonna what?” The concern in his eyes became blatant fear.

“Trim it.” Her voice was completely flat, offering no explanation as she took the knife from her friend, and handed the man a wet cloth. “Bite down on this.”

“Why?” He hesitantly took the cloth, looking at his caretaker as though he wasn’t sure if she was actually trying to help him, or just helping the spirit of death do its job.

“It’ll help relieve pain. Just trust me on this.” While not completely true, it was true that Qiuhua wanted him to be quiet during this. This was already a difficult task, and if he started screaming and thrashing around, it would be not only more difficult, but also dangerous. She didn’t want to cut anything she wasn’t supposed to.

The man swallowed nervously, but seemed to trust her, placing the cloth in his mouth. Qiuhua gave a reassuring smile, and brushed her bangs out of her face. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”

She brought the small knife down and rested it on the pus-ridden skin, steadying her hand. She let out a deep breath, and began slicing out the infection. The man began to scream through the cloth, his back arched and his fists clenched as he started to whip back and forth.

“Bai, hold him down!”

Today was going to be a long day.

 

Breath in.

Breath out.

Feel the pulse of the flame, the flicker or life.

Zuko focused his energy into his breath, the steady pushing and pulling of air in and out his lungs. Even after resting for a good portion of the day, he had felt exhausted, with a stiff knot locked between his shoulder blades, and a haze clouding his mind. He had come so close! While he did have a plan, it would have been so much easier if the Avatar hadn’t fled! Zuko would already have captured him, and be headed home by now…

He supposed that’s why he had to capture the Avatar, since it was so difficult. It’s a task only a worthy son could accomplish, one his father believed he could achieve. This banishment was to teach how to be a proper firelord, and one of a firelord’s virtues had to be patience.

He knew that, consciously, but it didn’t stop a low growl from leaving his throat. The line of candles in front of him flared higher, casting a fierce orange light against the crimson Fire Nation banner that hung on the wall. 

Azula wouldn’t have had these issues. She would have simply sailed into port, without a fight, and taken the Avatar without any effort at all. That’s the sort of luck she had, the sort of luck that always eluded Zuko. 

A series of dull knocks rattled through the metal door to his quarters, and the candles snuffed out, leaving only thin wisps of smoke drifting in the air. Zuko’s pale gold eyes snapped open, and he pushed himself off of his meditation mat, wrapping a regal red robe around his well-defined chest. “Enter.” 

The gears of the door shrieked, and the door cracked open, letting pale ruby light into the dark room. “Prince Zuko, I hope I was not disturbing your rest. I just wanted to invite you to join me for dinner.” Iroh poked through the door, a soft smile on his face as he glanced around the room, his eyes finally settling on his nephew.

Zuko grimaced, and he tied his robe. “I was meditating, Uncle.”

“Oh, I apologize!” Iroh gave a toothy smile, his voice bouncy and jovial. “We haven’t spoken since yesterday, so I was simply hoping to enjoy your company.”

Zuko clicked his tongue, but did not respond, simply pulling the door open and walking past his uncle. He strode through the ship’s corridors, his soft slippers soundlessly gliding over the cool metal floor. His uncle followed behind him as they passed several doors, Stopping at one with a lotus flower mark painted on the dull steel. Zuko twisted the door’s wheel, unlocking it, and pushed it open, revealing a room with a single paisho table and a few pillows for sitting on.

The young prince sat at the table, crossing his legs, and his uncle soon joined him, after fetching the ship’s cook.

“So, my nephew, how was your trip ashore? Successful, I hope?” The old man smiled genuinely as he poured two cups of tea, handing the first one to his nephew.

Zuko scoffed, and his mouth twisted into a sour expression. “Uncle, if I were successful, we would have charted a course for the Fire Nation by now.”

Iroh smiled softly, sipping his tea, and placed a single tile onto the paisho table. “There is more to success than simply capturing the Avatar, young prince. Any new experience is a form of success in itself.”

“That is what you say, Uncle, but it is not the type of ‘success’ I need right now.” Zuko placed a piece in response, looking at the board rather than his uncle. While he had known how to play paisho since he was a child, being a basic building block of any noble man’s education, he had not started playing it regularly until about two years ago, after a visit to the Northern Air Temple where Uncle had found an old set which he simply had to take the lotus tile from. Zuko never understood his uncle and his bizarre reasoning, but it had set him on the path to taking up the game as a way to pass time. Not that he was any good at it, despite his uncle’s seemingly endless tutoring.

Iroh looked at the piece, thinking about Zuko’s move, and gave a curt nod, a wide smile on his face. “You have been learning, Prince Zuko!”

Something in his heart jumped at his uncle’s response, like a young child basking in his father’s praise, but Zuko crushed the feeling immediately. “I am not a child Uncle; of course I’m learning.”

“And I never said you were.” Iroh continued the game, placing a white lotus tile in the center of the board. “Though, I have yet to meet a grown man who can learn faster than a child. Adults often worry more about their pride than learning, while children are known for their curiosity.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply. His uncle seemed to enjoy saying wise-sounding, but useless, things, and Zuko had learned to simply ignore it. They sat in silence for several minutes, the scent of jasmine tea filling the stale cabin air as the two took turns placing and moving tiles around the board. Eventually, the ship’s chef filtered through the room, giving each of the men a bowl of noodle soup. It was the sort that had more of a “feeling” than a “flavor,” where the warmth of the fish broth in his stomach was more important than the actual taste of the broth. Zuko had come to prefer that sort of soup; any type of food that relied on its seasoning and freshness was a fruitless task on his ship, which would often spend a month or two at a time out on the open sea. After the fall of the Earth Kingdom, many of the ports his crew often docked at would no longer service the banished prince, so they were forced to find smaller and more obscure ports of call. This meant, to Zuko’s distaste, that they were forced to buy from smaller local markets, each one having a small stock of local ingredients. And thus, fish broth and noodles for dinner, with a plate of seaweed for the two to share. Not exactly a meal fit for royalty.

“But, considering that you returned empty handed,” Iroh savored the soup for a moment, “I suppose that the rumor you heard was simply another dead end?”

Zuko scarfed down his noodles, trying to ignore the pungent taste that came with using saltwater to boil the noodles. Despite the wretched flavor that seemed to stick to his tongue, he smiled slyly. “Not quite, Uncle.”

Iroh simply quirked an eyebrow, watching the young man from across the table.

“The avatar was there, I just haven’t captured him yet.” Zuko set his bowl to the the side, and leaned over the table. “I’ve found him. And I have a plan to capture him.” 

“Oh?” Iroh moved one of his tiles, despite not looking at the board. “How did you find him?”

“The villagers led me to him. He’s been living in a bog to the north of the village.” His smile fell. “The avatar managed to slip through my fingers, though.”

“That is indeed a tragedy, Prince Zuko.” Iroh’s soft demeanor wavered, an intelligent scowl crawling onto his face. “How are you so sure that this man is the Avatar, though? We have been wrong before.”

Zuko grimaced, unable to stop memories of his misadventures in Si Wong desert from coming to mind. “I’m certain of it Uncle; the villagers would have no reason to lie to me about hiding the Avatar.”

“There is always the chance that it isn’t the villagers that are lying; a person wearing the mask of the Avatar could reap many rewards.” Iroh stroked his long beard, his warm brown eyes filled with cold doubt. 

“How could someone pretend to be the Avatar, Uncle?” Zuko grit his teeth. He was so close, yet his uncle still treated him like a foolish child who could not distinguish between reality and fantasy. “They either can bend all four elements, or they can’t.”

His uncle grunted, closing his eyes to think. “I am just an old man, I would not know. But I just believe you shouldn’t be too reckless. This is not only your life you are impacting.”

“I know,” Zuko mumbled under his breath, looking at, but failing to see, the board in front of him. If Iroh heard him, he did not respond. 

The rest of the game passed quietly, neither of the men speaking much. The game concluded, with Iroh victorious, as always, and Zuko wanting to flip the paisho table, and all the pieces on it. He stormed out of the cabin, bound for his own quarters, where he slammed and locked the door. 

Regardless of what his uncle thought, Zuko had found the Avatar. And despite how stealthy the avatar might be, he still wouldn’t dare try and sneak past the squad of fire nation soldiers guarding his hut. But when the guards left the bog, having given up, that’s when the Avatar would attempt to retrieve his belongings. 

Zuko slipped a stormy blue mask out of his trunk, it’s smile stretched and contorted into a vicious grin by it’s long, curved teeth.  
When the Avatar thought the coast was clear, the Blue Spirit would strike.

 

A/N: Heya, everyone, it’s Imp. So, thank you to everyone who followed and commented, I now have a dedicated fanbase of *looks at paper* eight (on fanfic.net)! So to the eight that deem my story important, this goes out to you! *begins to play “dancing in the moonlight” on the kazoo*

In other news, I’m planning to make this a weekly story, with me dropping a new chapter every Friday. However, I know for a fact that I’m awful at editing, so if there’s anyone that’s willing to beta-read, it would be a godsend. Hope You all enjoyed this chapter!

Coolconnor95: Thank you! I’m always really nervous that I’m not making them seem like… well, themselves. So, it's good to know I have them seeming natural.

Desitdan: Thanks! I can’t wait to write more! I’m personally just hoping more than just the intro is well written… *nervous chuckle*.


	3. Chapter 3

Qiuhua dipped her hands into the bucket of cool water, scrubbing off the thick layers of grime that had collected on them.

“Man, your hands are pretty dirty from today…” Bai walked out of the temple behind her, and joined her friend on the steps.

The younger woman laughed dryly. “I wish it was just dirt. That comes out easier.” She picked under her fingernails, and dug into the wrinkles in in her palm, scraping off dried blood, leftover salve, and the sticky remains of the infections.

Bai settled down next to her on the cold stone steps, and playfully nudged Qiuhua’s shoulder. “If it was dirt, you could just bend the stuff out. And spirits, you know that’s important in my house. Turn around, your hair’s been a mess all day.”

“Yeah, I guess bending can be useful sometimes. But it has its own bundle of issues, ya know.” Qiuhua shrugged nonchalantly, and gave in to her friend’s prodding, untying her long hair to let the woman have her fun. “Speaking of your house, how’s your husband? I didn’t see him in the temple today.”

The married woman sighed softly, relief carried in her voice as she began untangling Qiuhua’s hair with a small wooden comb. “Genhui is fine, thankfully. He only got a few burns and bruises during the fighting, nothing much, so he’s currently helping the Lis’ tend to their fields.”

“That’s really kind of him.” Qiuhua smiled, but it was a weak, tired motion. “Genhui is a nice guy. You’re lucky to be married to him.” The shrine maiden’s eyes watched the ocean in the distance, the sun hovering over the water like a peach-colored marble hanging over a bathtub. 

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really sure how to feel when your mother matched the two of us together, but it seems she can read the spirits!” Bai continued to ramble for a bit, but her voice started to fade from Qiuhua’s mind, her thoughts unable to wander far from the thing she had seen today.

The burns. Oh, ancestors, those burns. Qiuhua was not new to treating most injuries, let alone common burns, but there was nothing “common” about these. She remembered once when Grandma Wang had spilled a pot of boiling noodles on herself. She had only just started learning under her mother at the time, and so seeing Grandma Wang covered in dark blisters and seared pink burns was something Qiuhua just… couldn’t understand. Despite her old age, Grandma Wang had always been a lively woman, always quick to smile or be the first to tell a joke. And so seeing her on the mat in the temple, weezing, crying, afraid… It had shocked her. Her mother had healed the burns, of course, but the scars were still there, dark splotches that stretched up the old woman’s thin arms, often covered by the loose sleeves of her robes.

Those had been the worst burns Qiuhua had ever seen, at least until today. She had never seen the Fire Nation before. Her father had never liked talking about his experiences during the war, and now she saw why. It was terrifying. Almost half the men in the village were going to have large scars, at best; two were resting at the entrance to the spirit world. The reason Bai’s husband was helping the Li family with their field was because all three of the family’s men were resting in the temple, their arms and legs charred black and gray. And unlike with Grandma Wang, this hadn’t been an accident. She wrapped her robes around herself tightly, despite how warm it still was.

“Despite the fact that I clean his shop daily, it’s always a complete mess!” Bai huffed. “I get that he works with pottery, but I personally think Genhui is just a magnet for dirt. And I’m pretty sure Ai-ai is picking up that nasty habit, too!”

Qiuhua pushed her thoughts from her mind, and rolled her eyes at her friend. “I’m pretty sure kids are just always messy. I know I definitely was.” 

“Well yeah, but you’re you.” Finally satisfied with her progress, The older woman began braiding her friend’s hair. “You were the girl that earthbended a mudslide as a kid, remember? I don’t think I should use you for comparison.”

“Hey, it was just one time! Mostly, I just rolled around in the mud for fun instead.”

“Ah yes, that’s a much better idea for my kid. I’ll have to make sure that they get a proper amount of ‘mud-rolling’ in as a child.”

“Of course!” Qiuhua grinned teasingly. “After all, if you don’t teach them how to play in the mud, they’re just going to grow up to be one big stick in the mud.”

The two women chuckled, simply enjoying the rest after a long day of dressing wounds and tying bandages. 

“Where is Ai-ai right now, anyway?” Qiuhua leaned back, her shoulders relaxing as her friend continued to weave strands of her hair together. Bai always seemed to have had an affinity for playing with hair, but Qiuhua was the only one who really let the woman do it; it was something they did as kids, and just never really saw a reason to stop.

“Oh, he’s with the grandmas. Grandma Li and Grandma Wang were just going to spend the day pickling some of the early harvest, and since I had to come help your mother at the temple, they offered to take care of him.” Bai paused for a moment, before sighing in surrender. “Considering he’s with Grandma Wang, he probably is getting that necessary mud-rolling you mentioned. I’m gonna have to clean him thoroughly tonight.”

Qiuhua snickered. “Ah, motherhood is truly beautiful, isn’t it?”

Bai pinched her ear, and Qiuhua yelped in surprise. “Don’t get too comfortable teasing me, you’re gonna have to deal with this soon too!”

“Yeah, that’s true I guess.” The shrine maiden cracked an apologetic grin. “My parents are still dead set on having me marry Mingjiang by the end of the year.”

“Yeah, I know.” Instead of Bai, a tall man from within the temple responded, before walking forward and leaning against the doorframe. “How are you two?”

Qiuhua glanced up at the lithe man, whose dark skin and hair was so common in the village. He was fairly muscular, but because of the way he was built, he looked like a fifteen year old kid instead of the 20 year old he was. “Oh, hey Mingjiang. I’m doing ok, just a bit tired.” She jerked her head towards the steps. “Come and take a seat. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Not this close to the marriage, at least” Bai cracked a wide grin. “But after a year or so, you should watch your back!”

Mingjiang sniggered, a casual smile on his face as he joined the two women on the steps. “I’ll keep that in mind. Should I warn Genhui, too?”

“Oh, trust me, he knows.” The fact that Bai’s cheerful smile didn’t even flicker as she said the words reminded Qiuhua that her friend, while often kind and caring, also had a more… disturbing side. “‘Disturbing’ was the best choice of word, because, as far as Qiuhua knew, Bai had yet to actually commit murder. Hopefully.

The young man settled down next to the women, and stretched his arms. Qiuhua looked him up and down, and gave an approving smile. “I see you made it through the battle in one piece. I was a bit worried when I heard you charged in with nothing but a big club.”

“Aw, it’s nice to know you care.” He smiled slyly at her. “Good thing I know how to handle myself.”

“Yeah, no you don’t.” She rolled her eyes, and looked out at the ocean. “I know for a fact that I could take you down with one arm tied behind my back. I was concerned because it would be my job to fix you up, and I didn’t want to deal with that mess.”

Mingjiang clicked his tongue and feinted being hurt, dramatically cradling his face in his hands. “Wow, thanks. My childhood friend and fiance doesn’t even want to bother putting me back together after I try so hard to defend the village from the big, bad firebenders?”

“Hey, do I ask you to do extra work? No. So don’t make me do any more than I need to.” Qiuhua flicked his forehead, ignoring his snickering.

“She has a point.” Bai curled a lock of her dark hair around her finger, obviously distracted. “I think I need to go pick up Ai-ai. It’s almost dusk, and I don’t want to cause any issues for the Grandmas.”

“You have to go?” Mingjiang glanced over at the woman. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay out a bit longer?”

Bai smiled awkwardly, and bowed a bit as an apology. “Yeah, I wish I could, really, but I gotta go take care of Ai-ai. I can only force him on the Grandmas for so long.”

“Hey, I understand.” Qiuhua waved weakly. “Thanks for your help today. I know that it was pretty stressful for you, so I can help take care of Ai-ai tomorrow if you need.”

“Thank you so much, Qiuhua. I’ll tell you if I need it.” She smiled like a soldier smiles at his parents before heading to battle, and stood up, brushing off her skirt. “I’ll see you guys later.” They all waved goodbye, and Bai set down the short path to the village.

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes. At least, Qiuhua thought it was, being too tired to care, and Mingjiang seemed at ease too. Well, he would be completely relaxed even if the sky was falling, but she didn’t think that was a problem. He was the sort of person she didn’t need to talk to to enjoy his company, and it had always had been like that. It was like the shirt that she had had since she was a child; somehow, it had grown up right with her, with a dozen patched and another dozen stitches making it possible. It might be not be new or flashy, but it was comfortable in a way novel things couldn’t be, and it was held together with plenty of memories. 

The sun, it’s rich red light casting long shadows, finally met the waves. The leaves on the trees rustled in the light breeze, and the salty air stung her eyes. In the distance, she could make out the silhouette of a dark ship, tall stacks of smoke rising from it’s towers.

“Do you remember when we discovered your bending?”

Mingjiang’s question startled Qiuhua. She looked over, and saw him looking up, towards the darkening sky. A shy smile tugged at his lips.

“Yeah, on the beach. It’s kinda hard to forget.”

“That was really weird, if you think about it. You didn’t do anything really cool, just threw around a few pebbles. But you were so excited.”

“Thanks, it’s always nice to know you think that.” Qiuhua quirked an eyebrow, her tone dry and bitter.

Mingjiang rolled his eyes. “What I mean is, we were all just kids, but I think that was when we started growing up. Like, a few weeks after that, I got my apprenticeship with the blacksmith, and Bai started helping her mom in the kitchen. Spirit, was she excited about that.” He paused, his eyes glazing over. His smile fell. “And with you… well, that thing with your brother happened.”

Qiuhua fiddled with her hair, the memory rearing its ugly, scarred head. “Yeah, and? I’m not sure if what I did counts as ‘growing up.’”

“Well, either way,” He patted her head, and she stiffened. “We’ve come a long way. Bai has a kid, we’re going to get married, stuff like that. It’s just weird.”

Qiuhua scowled, trying to push away the sinking feeling in her heart. “Are you feeling ready? For the wedding?”

The thought of getting married made her guts twist, like a large ball of ice had forced its way down her throat and sunk down to the bottom her stomach. She had known for two years that she was supposed to marry him, but it had always seemed so distant, less of a specific time and more of an “eventually,” when she was older and more “adult.” But here she was, a month away from the marriage, feeling like neither of those things. 

She saw the way Bai had changed since her marriage. She went from the girl that loved staying out until midnight and playing pranks to a young mother that cleaned and took care of children all day. It was like seeing a playful deer-puppy get hooked to a sled and trained until it ran like all of the others, and the thought of her going through the same transformation made Qiuhua feel nauseous. Get married, have kids, become a proper shrine maiden… It had always been the plan, ever since she was a child. She knew that. But it still felt wrong.

Mingjiang smiled remourcefully at her, almost as though he could see the thoughts passing through his friend’s head as easily as he could see the clouds dotting the darkening sky. “I don’t feel ready at all, to be completely honest. But I’ve heard that you never feel ready for this sort of thing until you’ve already done it.”

“I guess.” She shrugged and leaned back, watching the stars reveal themselves as the sun set. “The real question is will I ever be able to see you as anyone more than that little boy who cried over me building a better making a better sand castle than you.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mingjiang pouted, and waggled his finger at her. “Firstly, I was not crying over your castle, I only got sand in my eyes. And secondly, mine was definitely better. After all, your’s fell over.”

“That’s because you through a rock at it!” Qiuhua snapped at him, a bit too quickly to be joking. The two were silent for a moment, before he cracked, and they both broke down laughing.

“Are you really holding a grudge over that?” He wiped a tear from his eye.  
“I can’t help it!” She playfully punched his arm. “I mean, it’s the best one I’ve ever made.”

“You were seven!”

“Shuddap!”

“Qiuhua!” Her mom’s loud voice startled the two out of their bickering. “Can you go home and make dinner? I’m going to handle cleaning up here, but Jian should need dinner soon!”

“Sure!” The young shrine maiden shouted back, before pushing herself off the stairs and grinning at Mingjiang. “See ya tomorrow, crybaby.”

He gave her a sly grin, and a small wave. “Bye, then. Best luck not burning the house down.”

“Oh, be quiet. I know how to cook.”

“Uh-huh.”

With that, she turned to head home. Despite their playful bickering, her heart was still heavy. Mingjiang was right, they were changing. Bai was a mother, Mingjiang was a blacksmith, and Qiuhua… 

Well, she didn’t know yet.

\--------

Qiuhua’s house was by far the nicest in the village. The roof was tiled with jade colored shingles, the octagonal windows were made with glass, and the door was decorated with handcrafted bronze, all of which had to be imported from bigger towns. It was built just outside of the village itself, near the path that led to the bog, and had a large garden filled with various small stone statues. There was even a small caldron in a gazebo, where they could pray and burn incense. But, with her father being the village leader, it wasn’t a surprise that her home was so nice. The house had been in her family for decades, with each new generation adding more to the home. But Qiuhua thought it just came off as disjointed and unbalanced; it was like asking a group of wise men to write a haiku, but each one was only allowed to say one word.

And, of course, there were family feuds, which were memorialized in the building’s decor; For example, Great Grandpa Longfei had built the gazebo and painted it a traditional lush green. But when Grandpa Ji took up the family mantel, he was still upset at his father for allowing Fire Nation merchants to dock in the village, and so he painted the gazebo red, draping his father’s legacy in the colors of the enemy. Father, though, despised the Fire Nation, having fought in the Earth Kingdom Army, and refused to have anything in his household colored red, including the gazebo. And thus, he sent a letter to a friend in Dawan, a nearby town, asking his friend for a package of regal jade paint, which he used to recolor the gazebo.

There were dozens of more stories, from that one totem with a laughing lemur head instead of the boar that it’s supposed to have, to the odd poem about three lionturtles playing Paisho that hung in the hallway. She didn’t know how many of these stories were actually true, but her grand-aunt had been a wonderful storyteller. Qiuhua would listen to her tales about her family’s mishaps on almost a daily basis as a child, her eyes sparkling with imagination as her grand aunt’s glazed over, seeing scenes from long-passed days.

Qiuhua smiled sadly at the bittersweet memories, pushing open the gate to the family garden and walking past the gazebo. She should burn some incense for her grand aunt. After all, it probably was sad for the spirit, only getting the be with her living family during Tomb-sweeping day. The edges of her smile fell. Yet another thing that had changed in the past two years.

“Jian, I’m home!” She pushed open the old wooden door, and the scent of simmering soup reached her nose. 

“Shhh!” Jian popped his head out from the small kitchen, his finger raised to his lips and his voice little more that a mouse-mole’s squeak. “Father’s asleep!”

“Oh, sorry.” She lowered her voice, and joined her brother in the kitchen. “Is he doing ok? I haven’t seen him at all since yesterday.”

Jian sighed, and rolled his wooden wheelchair back to the pot of soup he had been stirring. “He didn’t really talk at all when he got back. He said something about a Fire Nation prince, but then went to bed.”

“A prince?” She cocked her head, and took a stack of clay bowls out of a cabinet. She hadn’t actually seen the man commanding the soldiers, but would a prince really come here? Wouldn’t he be busy doing… whatever princes did? She didn’t really know. Saving damsels or something. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t attacking a small village in the southern Earth Kingdom. 

“Yeah, I don’t really understand either. He’s been asleep for a few hours, so I guess we’ll find out at dinner.” Jian shrugged, and threw a palmful of chopped up herbs into the soup, the fireplace’s flames licking the bottom of the copper pot. “How about you? How were things at the temple?”

“It was exhausting…” Qiuhua set the last bowl down, the stone clicking against the wooden table, unsure of what to say. “But we helped a lot of people, at least.”

Jian turned towards her, and gave a relieved smile. “That’s good. So many people had gotten hurt yesterday…” His smile drooped, and his dark eyes looked at the ground. “Mom had said that some of them might not make it.”

Qiuhua swallowed the lump in her throat, and began stroking her brother’s pale, sandy hair, her fingers slipping between the knotted tufts. They looked similar, really, both having light brown hair that never seemed to be able to sit down straight, and chocolate eyes that looked like the entrances of dark, bottomless caves. She leaned over the back of his wheelchair, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and the other attempting in vain to smooth his hair. She forced a small smile.

“Oh, you know Mom.” She picked a fleck of dirt out of his hair, and flicked it away. “If it rains too early, the harvest is ruined. If a baby is born with beautiful locks of hair, he’s bound to go bald early. She’s just being pessimistic, like she always is.”

Jian chuckled, and shook his head. “She is always like that, isn’t she?”

“Oh, you know she is!” She ruffled Jian’s hair, and stepped back, placing her hands on her hips. “And by the way, aren’t I supposed to be the one cooking? I’m the responsible, older sister.”

“Yeah, no thank you. I’d rather not burn down the house.” He glanced over his shoulder, giving his sister a playful smirk.

“Work on your creativity.” She began digging through one of the drawers for spoons. “Mingjiang already made that joke today.”

“Well then, you should’ve listened to him. You were the one that figured out how to burn steamed buns.”

“It was one time! Once!” 

Jian chuckled, and continued working on the soup. Qiuhua would have kept fighting, but she was already was gritting her teeth to keep the truth from leaking out.

Mom wasn’t being a pessimist. Mr. Li was almost certainly going to die; he had been speared through the chest. It hadn’t punctured anything vital, but there was nothing they could do to stop the infection that was clawing away at his insides like a rabid tigerdillo. Qiuhua had to cut off Mr. Jin’s leg at the knee; the burns had scarred it beyond recognition, and since he had waited so long to be treated, they had to amputate it. There were a few others, too, most of which she had helped “treat,” if it could be called that. She didn’t considered telling Mr. Li to make peace with his ancestors proper treatment. What was she supposed to tell Jian? ‘It’s just like that sometimes?’ Or maybe ‘there’s nothing they can do?’ That’s a great thing to tell him, right? She huffed, her thoughts running in circles as guilt raked her stomach.

They continued working quietly for a bit, until Jian clapped his hands. “There we go, it should be ready!”

She looked over his shoulder, at the dull yellow soup. “What is it tonight, chef? Anything poisonous?” Despite her flippant comment, her voice was still subdued, unable to be coerced into sounding cheerful.

“No, I decided not to use those mushrooms anymore.” He sniffed his creation, smiling at the results, before wrapping a cloth around his hand and pulling it out of the fire.

“Wait...” Her mind processed that comment for several moment, before it clicked. “Are you saying it was those mushrooms that caused everyone to have diarrhea!?”

Jian pursed his lips, avoiding his sister’s wrathful eyes. “Well… Let’s just say that their taste going in was not worth their feeling coming out. Yeah, I think that sounds better.”

“You fed us poisonous mushrooms! Multiple times!”

“I didn’t know that they were the cause! I just found them in the forest!”

“Then why did you use them!?”

The door to their parent’s room swung open, it’s old hinges squeaking like a vole caught in a trap. The two of them froze, fear in their eyes as a bald man with a graying beard emerged from the dark room.

“What…” Their father said, shifting from one foot to the other as her rubbed his temples. “What in our ancestors’ name are you two arguing about this time..?”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, until Qiuhua broke the silence, her voice little more than a whisper. “... Jian’s been feeding us poisoned mushrooms…”

Their father breathed in deeply, and looked over at his son, his eyes unfocused. “Is this true?”

“... Yes…” Jian spoke with the ferocity of a deer-puppy.

“Then don’t do it again.” The old man stated plainly, plopping down at the low table. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

The two children simply stood there dumbly, neither wanting to speak. Their father raised an eyebrow. “Is it the poisoned mushrooms?”

“N-no!” Jian quickly swallowed his fear, his face bright red, and wheeled over to the table to set the soup down. “It’s a possum-chicken soup, with burdock root and herbs. I decided to try some new herb combinations this time.”

Qiuhua joined them at the table, settling on one of the cushions, when the door to the house slammed closed. “Yugang, I’m home!”

“Good evening, Dear.” He called out a greeting, but it was half hearted, and his eyes   
looking through, rather than at, the soup in front of him.

Their mom, still donning her green shrine maiden outfit, strut into the room and collapsed at the table, her legs giving out. She rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes, and sighed, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Hey, kids… What for dinner..?”

Jian smiled at her sympathetically from across the low table, and poured her a bowl. “Warm possum-chicken soup; something hearty for all of you!” There were a few moments of silence as his optimistic smile failed to spread to either of the parents, before he quickly set the soup down in front of her and handed her a spoon. “I was just thinking, with all of you working so hard, tonight would be a good night for it. A stomach full of tasty food always helps a person rest, after all!”

Eventually, the soup was served, and all four of them began to eat. Qiuhua saw the concern in his eyes, and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. The parents weren’t trying to ignore him, they were just tired. He gave her a curt nod and a strained smile, but it didn’t seem to ease the tension in his body at all.

She tried to hide her own worries, and took a sip of the soup. The broth had a simple, but pleasant aroma, and she couldn’t help but feel her shoulders loosen as her brother’s handiwork rolled past her tongue. She hummed in satisfaction, and gave a wide smile. “Yeah, this really hits the spot tonight, especially without all those mushrooms. Thanks, kid!”

“Don’t call me a kid, I’m only three years younger than you.” Despite his defensive comment, his scowl melted away, replaced by a biting smile. “And thanks for the compliment.”

She made a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a laugh, and drained her bowl. “You’re my little brother. You’ll always be a kid to me.” He rolled his eyes, but said nothing, letting the silence engulf them again.

Her second bowl of soup had already settled in her stomach when her mom had finally regained enough energy to speak. “Did you have a nice conversation with Mingjiang today?” Qiuhua internally groaned, suddenly feeling silly for wanting to fill the lull. Of course it would be this. 

“Yeah, it’s always good to talk to him.” She tried to sound as non-committal as possible, not looking up from the bowl in her hand.

“Yes, I’d agree.” He mother gulped down the last of her soup, and seemed to look everywhere but her daughter. “And he managed to prove himself a good warrior, too. He was practically uninjured.”

Jian fidgeted, and Qiuhua adopted a stoney grimace as she served herself another bowl of soup. “I guess he did, didn’t he?”

“So…” Her mother cleared her through a bit too dramatically to be natural. “Are you still feeling hesitant?” 

“Mom, I already told you my answer.” She dropped the serving spoon into the copper pot. “I don’t want to get married.”

The older woman let out an exasperated sigh, and dropped her tactful facade. “For spirit’s sake, Qiuhua, it’s already been two years! We gave you two years to prepare!”

“Well, maybe I still don’t feel ready.” Qiuhua growled, refusing to look at her mother. 

“Don’t speak to your mother with that tone.” Her father stepped in, his voice quiet but forceful.

“Why not?” Qiuhua set her jaw and crossed her arms, her eyes cold and determined as boulders. She consciously knew what she was doing was wrong, but her mind was foggy with irritation and exhaustion. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to marry him, but you don’t listen to me.”

Her father glared at her, but her mother spoke first. “Don’t you understand the things we’ve put up with for you? You were supposed to marry him when you were sixteen! That was the original deal! But we negotiated with his parents to let you wait another two years so you could study!”

“You’re acting like you’re being considerate, but you never even gave me a choice in this entire thing!” Quihua clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. “Did you ever consider what I wanted? No, you just signed me away to his family when I was a kid!”

“Who else were you supposed to marry?” Her father’s gruff voice caused all of them to flinch a bit. “Are there any other boys your age in the village? No!”

“But-”

“No buts!” His dark eyes burrowed into her mercilessly, his voice dropping dangerously low. “You’re soon going to be past marriageable age, and as your father, it is my duty to make sure you will have a husband to protect you. He is the only option in the village, and you’ve been friends since childhood. My parents weren’t so lucky. They hated each other, but they grew up, acted like mature adults, and did their duty as part of the family.”

“But I don’t love him…” The words were tiny, not even a whisper, but they carried all of the strength she could garner.

“Then are you waiting for someone you love to magically appear out of thin air and sweep you off your feet?” The old man pulled at his beard, tired and angry. “Our lives aren’t fairy tales. No courageous, perfect prince is going to suddenly arrive and solve all of your issues, no matter how much you dream of it.”

“That’s not what I want, though…”

“Then what is it that you want? Is it that Avatar you’re always spouting about? That boy in the woods?”

Qiuhua bit down on her tongue, restaining herself despite how her heart felt like it was about to explode. This wasn’t a battle she was going to win, and talking would just make it worse.

“I let that boy into the village because of your begging, because you said he would protect us, but where was he yesterday? Hiding! That ashmaker was threatening to kill everyone in the village, and the avatar just hid, putting everyone in danger!” Her father’s voice became louder and louder, filling the room.

She held her breath, begging her mouth not to speak.

“He’s been nothing but trouble!” Her father grumbled. “We should have just left him in the woods to fend for himself. Now all you ever do is run around with him in the woods, as though he’ll somehow save you from your responsibilities! He stole away our hope when he failed to stop the Fire Nation, and now he stole away my daughter!”

“Shut up!” She shot to her feet, snapping at her father. “Shut up already! The Avatar was just a kid when we were fighting the Fire Nation, so stop blaming him for your own damn failures! I was the one who hid the Avatar, so if you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me! And yeah, maybe I do want a bit more in life! Maybe I don’t want to just be a baby maker for the rest of time! Is there something wrong with that? Is that too much to ask?”

She turned on her heel and ran out of the house before her parents could properly respond, rage-filled tears welling in her eyes as she slammed the door behind her. She ran out of the garden, and down the path to the village, her bare feet slapping against the hard dirt. She heard her father running after her, so she clenched her teeth and ran even faster. Even when she reached the village, she didn’t stop running, weaving between the houses and darting past the Fire Nation Soldiers in the main square. She could barely see where she was running, her eyes unfocused and her thoughts muddled. She didn’t know where she was going, but her feet did, carrying here where she needed to go without being told. The path under her feet gradually became sandier, and the trees became thinner, until she finally reached the beach.

She slowed and stumbled, her legs sore and her lungs burning. She panted, wiping the blurry tears from her eyes, and staggered towards the dark water, it’s soulless black waves shimmering in the haunted moonlight. She felt her blood pounding in her ears, and the salty air scratched against her dry throat.

Her legs crumpled under her, dropping her two her knees, and the cool water washed over her aching feet. She choked back tears, wanting to smack herself for not grabbing her shoes. Actually, she wanted to smack herself for quite a few reasons, not the least of which was giving her father even more reasons to kick the avatar out of the village. He had never liked the boy anyway, and had wanted to get rid of him from the start. Qiuhua didn’t understand why her father hated him so much. He was a chance to repel the Fire Nation, when the time came, but all her father could see him as was a coward and a failure.

She curled her legs up to her chest, and wiped the snot from her nose. The waves rolled past her, the water soaking through her dress and chilling her to the bone.

She brushed her messy hair to the side, and reached out, placing her hand on the wet sand. The lifted her hand, teasing the sand upward, just like how the avatar had shown her. She nurtured the rising column, her shaky breaths steadying. She leaned forward on the balls of her feet, feeling the sand slip between her toes as she wiggled them. A stiff, empty calm came over her mind as she worked her hands, bending the fine grains of earth into a small town, a dozen small houses and a few larger buildings. Her scowl softened, and she blinked away her salty tears. She dug her fingers down into the dirt, feeling the stability and comfort it brought, before drawing it upwards, creating a thick wall of sand to protect the town. In the center of the town she created a towering spire, taller and stronger than any of the other buildings. Finally, in her hands, she created a small person from the sand, who she put in the spire. A queen, wise and powerful, who would protect her people with the ferocity and drive of a mother tigerdillo. Qiuhua stared at the queen’s awkward, barely defined features, and a bittersweet smile came to her face. It might only be a sand-queen, who ruled a sand-town, on a small beach in the middle of nowhere, but Qiuhua couldn’t help but be jealous of her.

And then the wave crashed down, washing away the town. The spire toppled over, and the walls melted away like frost in the morning sun. The villagers’ houses were destroyed, and the queen couldn’t do anything but watch in horror. Qiuhua choked, holding back the tears that she thought had faded away.

She felt a strong hand grasp her shoulder, firm but not aggressive, somehow conveying that she’d be alright. Her father had always been stoic like that, unwilling to say any words of comfort, but still wanting to assure her that he was there for her. Qiuhua refused to look towards him, her eyes locked on the remains of her town, but she grabbed his hand, clinging onto it and asking for its strength. She clenched her teeth, willing the tears to stop. Her father had raised her a strong woman, not a girl who cried at everything. But they just kept coming, along with the strangled cries that rattled out of her throat. She just wanted to have some inkling of control, over herself, her life, something. She looked up to her father, wanting to see his dark, caring eyes and know he understood.

But instead, she met eyes with a blue demon, his twisted smile glinting in the ghostly light.

A/N: 大家好, This is Imp! I’ve noticed I’m really bad at this “every friday” thing, with not a single one of these chapters having been posted on a friday. Should I apologize for that? I probably should.

So, this is just a chapter focusing on Qiuhua and her little world, giving her a bit more depth (hopefully), so what does everyone think? Looking back at the past two chapters, I saw, uh… a FEW spelling and tense mistakes. Sorry ‘bout that. I’m planning to go back and fix those over the next week, so if there was one that particularly irked you, please do point it out. I actually printed out this chapter and went at it with a red pen for the editing process, so hopefully it turned out better. Regardless, hope you guys liked this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Zuko breathed out a small puff of fire, and tried to cover more of his face with his hood, hiding it from the frigid wind. It was only early early autumn, with the equinox still over a month away, but this god-forsaken village was only a few days journey away from the icy coasts of the South Pole, so it was already so cold that he and the men would have to wear their winter gear at night. 

He grimaced, and shivered. Zuko despised the cold, with every fiber of his body. He was a prince of the Fire Nation; his place was in the Capital, where the only thing that determined the season was the rain. But instead, he was on a frozen metal ship in the arctic Hu sea, south of the former Earth Kingdom, his thin black clothes perfect for stealth but useless at keeping him warm. Instead of growling or groaning, though, he just sighed and focused on his breathing, continuing to untie the ropes binding the life raft to the side of the ship. It wasn’t as though complaining would make things better; he had something to do tonight. 

Even through his gloves, his hands were sore by the time he finished picking apart the last knot holding the raft in place. It tumbled down, and slashed into the dark water, almost invisible in the shadows of the night time sea. Zuko slung a small bag over his shoulder and grit his teeth, before leaping over the side of the ship and landing in the boat. The boat rocked violently when he landed, and he hissed, his knees screaming from the sharp pain of the impact. Had his ship been in a calm bay, he would’ve used the ladder and spared himself the bruises, but instead, it was anchored offshore. The advantage was that none of his men had to worry about a surprise attack during the night, but the downside for Zuko was that he now had to row his life raft through the wild waves, in the notoriously choppy Hu sea. It was just his luck, of course. Lucky to be born, as his sister said. Zuko’s scowl deepened. 

He pushed himself up and found his sea legs, not wanting the small wooden vessel to capsize. It was a long, wide craft, able to carry about ten of his men, and had plenty of space. He dropped his bag and picked up the two long oars, setting them in the grooves carved into either side of the raft, and began rowing towards the shore. It was a difficult task at first, with the rolling ocean constantly knocking him off course, and the biting cold making his muscles stiff and raw as he pushed and pulled the oars. The air was icy, but his breath was hot, and sweat dripped down his back. When he entered the bay, though, the water stilled, and his tired shoulders had a moment to rest as the gentle current pushed his raft onto the beach. 

The beach was deserted, thankfully. The sun had set perhaps an hour ago, and it’s dying rays still clung to the horizon, tinting it purple against the midnight blue sky. There was always the chance that one of the fishermen was still here, but there was only the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore, and the occasional cat-owl meow. He swung himself over the side of the boat, the melody of nature shattered by his boots sloshing through the shallow water. He waded to the back of the raft, knee deep in the salty waves, and pushed his raft up onto the rocky beach, a dull scratching sound grinding against Zuko’s eardrums as the wooden hull scraped against the sand and pebbles. He pushed it up just far enough up to not be dragged out by the gentle pulling of the waves, but he didn’t bother going any farther; he was going to have to make a quick escape, and with a hostage. Any farther up, and it would just cause him issues.

He looked over the boat, making sure everything was in place, and gave a curt nod, picking up his brown, shapeless bag. The leather was worn and stained, and it’s one strap looked like it could snap at any moment, but was dark enough to blend in at night, and was large enough to carry what he needed. Some rope, a knife, a bit of jerky and clean water, just basic things. Mostly, he just needed the robe, and brought the other things out of habit; a tied up, powerless Avatar is a good avatar. The food and water was a precaution more than anything, because if his experiences in the Western Earth Kingdom had taught him anything, expect the worst possible option, and prepare for it. 

Most importantly, though, it contained his mask. He slipped it out of the bag, its faded and chipped blue paint almost glowing in the moonlight. It wasn’t special, nothing but a wooden mask. Just to hide his identity. But putting it on, it still felt special. No one else knew about this part of him, not Jee, not Uncle, no one. This was his, and his alone.

Zuko stalked through the thin woods just past the beach, staying off of the path to the village but keeping close enough to follow it. He was part of the shadows, so walking on a clear, open path was only bound to bring him trouble. It had been the full moon yesterday, so there was still plenty of light to reveal a darkly clothed figure to any passing villager, and that was not a risk he wanted to take. So, he simply stiffened his lip, and hiked through the fallen leaves and soft dirt, his leather boots allowing him to remain quiet. 

Unlike the night before, he kept his optimism in check. He had been naive to think that simply showing up and taking the village would make capturing the Avatar easy. Zuko snorted, stepping over a toppled, rotting tree. Uncle almost certainly would’ve stroked his beard in that “thinking deeply” way, and then told him a metaphor that simply replaced the current situation with animals. ‘Even if you have taken a birds nest, it can still fly away,’ or something else that was almost philosophical. That old man always knew how to drive Zuko to the end of his wits.

The walk wasn’t too difficult, but the cold sunk into his bones, and he could feel his inner fire flickering. He felt the urge to let it out, to warm himself up and let the fire’s hot orange tones fight off the cool blues of the night time forest. He internally groaned, knowing that he couldn’t. If possible, he wouldn’t prefer to bend even when capturing the Avatar. That would mean an all out fight with the master of the elements, and even Zuko knew he wasn’t likely to win that, so his only option was to use the element of surprise. Judging by how long ago sunset was, his men guarding the Avatar’s hut should head down to the village in around half an hour to change shifts. That would give the Avatar an opportunity to sneak into the hut, and give Zuko his chance to catch the man off guard. But that meant Zuko would have to hurry; he couldn’t risk missing his chance.

So he trudged on through the night, until he came upon the clearing where the village was. He briefly considered going through the village, but then decided against it. He instead clung to the treeline, tracing the outline of the village, until he reached a large house. Well, large in the relative sense. It was larger than all of the others, and had a dark green gazebo in front of it, but it was still rundown, with the glass windows scratched and old, and the bronze decorations long since faded to a dull green. His room in the palace was probably worth more than this pathetic attempt at regality. But that was beside the point; all that really mattered was that the house sat right next to the path that led to the bog. He wasn’t going to use the path, but he would follow it.

He snuck past the house easily, and wove through the woods behind it, making quick progress. But the farther into the woods he went, the softer the soil got. His boots were soon sinking down as far as his ankle, the black mud clinging to him. Zuko glared at the mud as he marched, as though he could threaten it into submission, but the stuff only seemed to stick to him more, his feet becoming heavier and heavier. 

The trees were becoming thicker as well, with stray limbs whipping his face and body in an effort to dish out nature’s divine punishment. Well, nature should just get out of the way. He pulled out one of his long dao blades, it’s hone steel shimmering in the few thin beams of moonlight that reached the forest floor, and began cutting through the branches and shrubs. Zuko didn’t have time to deal with this.

After seemingly endless hacking and slashing through the woods, his boots coated in mud and his breath shaky from the cold, he finally reached the clearing. He normally would of sighed in relief, but instead narrowed his eyes. He still wasn’t done. He settled in the bushes at the treeline, and squiented towards the hut.

Huh… that was odd…

Had his soldiers already left the area? Looking up at the moon, he had definitely gotten here before they were supposed to. He let out a low growl of irritation. If his soldiers had left early and let the Avatar escape… he would deal out quite the disciplining. He had even left Jee with them, for Agni’s sake. He would have to make an example of the lieutenant, even if his uncle told him not to.

But he didn’t move from the bush. That Avatar might not have come yet, still not sure if the soldiers had left. So Zuko waited, his breath hot and shaky in the icy air. Behind his mask, his eyes were narrow, like the predatory gaze of a weasel-snake. Maybe hours passed, maybe minutes; the only indication of time’s passage was the rising moon, a small white marble floating on an endlessly large blue ocean. The droning music of crickets filled the silence, and nothing moved.

Where was the Avatar? He should’ve moved by now, if he was waiting for the coast to clear. What if he had already snuck past and took his things? No, that would’ve been impossible, Zuko had been watching the area like a hawk. But what if he had done it before Zuko had gotten here? His mind tumbled hastily from one thought to another, running in every quickening circles, and the silence only making it faster. 

“Fine!” Zuko hissed at no one in particular. Himself? The crickets? Someone. He shot out from his hiding spot and rushed over to the hut, as fast as he could when wading through a knee deep, half frozen bog. He unsheathed his dao swords, their worn grips comfortably fitting into the palms of his hands, and their blades hanging low with deadly intent. Why did it matter if he was being loud? He was in an empty marsh in the middle of the night, who was going to hear him? The cat-gators? His soldiers most certainly weren’t considering that they decided to take the night off! 

He stormed through the bog, seething. Something always went wrong! Always! And he already knew the Avatar was gone! All because his men couldn’t do their jobs! He kicked through the water, not caring about how loud his splashing was. He swore to Agni, when he got back to his ship, his men would-

He pushed the last bundle of swamp grass to the side, and his thoughts, filled with an searing anger that he was far too familiar with, froze. His soldiers were still in the bog, and some more literally than others, considering a few of them were sunk into the ground as far up as their necks.

He scrambled out of the water, and onto the not-quite-as-wet ground, where his soldiers were lying, all various levels of incapacitated. Some were thrown to the side, simply lying unconscious on the ground, while others had limbs trapped in the peat, and some were entirely encased in it, except for their heads and necks.

He ran over to Jee, the old man splayed on his back and his arms both trapped in the bog, and grabbed him by the collar. He wanted to shake the man awake, but paused. He was currently disguised as the Blue Spirit, a criminal wanted throughout the Fire Nation and the colonies. He could explain to the men why, but… that was a conversation he did not want to have. And knowing Jee, the lieutenant would certainly tell Zuko’s uncle. Zuko steeled his eyes, and gently let the man’s head down. So long as they weren’t in danger, it would be best to leave them here for the next shift of soldiers to find. 

So he went around the bog, systematically checking each of the soldiers for a pulse and their temperature. All of them had a pulse. All of them were cold. It would have to do. He swallowed the bile in his throat, and nodded to no one. He knew what this mean.

Inside the hut, everything was gone. The staff, the scrolls, everything. The Avatar hadn’t bothered waiting, instead choosing to bulldoze through his men, a force of nature that effortlessly dismantled his well laid plans. The thought twisted Zuko’s stomach, as though he was going about this the wrong way all along. He was acting like the hunter, even though he was the prey. He pushed away the feeling, and swept the hut for clues. Not that there were any. The trail had gone cold. 

Two or three years ago, he would’ve been angry. He would’ve burnt down the hut, screamed at the sky, maybe rushed back to the ship and yelled at his uncle. But now, cold, drenched, covered in mud and moss, he was just tired. Tired of failing. Tired of being angry. Tired of this endless game of cat and mouse that always seemed to end with the cat left with nothing but the taste of the mouse left on it’s tongue, craving what it can never have. He wasn’t angy, but he didn’t want to cry. He just wanted to… stop.

 

\---------

 

Zuko took the dirt path home. His boots still sloshed from the water that had soaked into them, though, and he shivered. His swords hung at his hip, and his bag had been haphazardly tossed over his shoulders. He was going back to the ship. What else was he supposed to do? He could try and sail east tomorrow; the avatar had to flee somewhere, and the east section of the island was just as isolated as the south. 

But did it matter? It wasn’t as though he would find the Avatar, in all likelihood, and even if he did, it was obvious that he couldn’t capture the man. Uncle had always said that this was a pointless quest, and as much as Zuko always wanted to show his uncle he was wrong, he couldn’t help but agree. 

No one stopped him as he passed through the village. It was late enough that everyone was in their homes, and his soldiers only patrolled the main square. It was completely deserted, the only movement being the cutting wind. 

His walk was slow, unmotivated. He stuck to the shadowy edges of the path, more out of habit than conscious decision. His footsteps were sluggish, and his mouth dry, but he eventually reached the beach. 

Admittedly, the beach was beautiful. Zuko had never been too interested in looking at things for their beauty, unlike his uncle. The old man, relaxed and carefree as he was, seemed to always find beauty in the smallest details. He once wasted an entire day just looking at the flowers near Gaoling, right on the river’s edge. He seemed to treat those flowers like they were everything that mattered in the world, even if for just that day, a fact that irritated Zuko to no end as he tried to find information on the Avatar. Zuko actually didn’t remember much from that day; it had to have been years ago. He hadn’t gained any useful information, at least. But he remembered the simple enjoyment his Uncle had found in finding a flower that had one more pedal than usual. ‘A sign of good fortune to come,’ Uncle had said.

At the time, it had seemed immature and childish to Zuko, his Uncle wasting daylight just to see something as common and mundane as flowers. So what if it had an extra petal? It was still just a flower. But now, standing at the beach…

Zuko felt empty. How was he supposed to capture the Avatar? How was he supposed to ever go home? Would he ever go home? That sense of empty longing, of pointless effort and hopeless quests, seemed at least temporary filled as he looked at the beach. It was beautiful, even if just in a mundane, common way. The fact that this was common was beautiful. Watching the waves crest and fall, push and pull, it did seem pointless. The waves never did get anywhere, but the process was beautiful. Maybe that’s how Uncle saw the world. An elegant, if pointless, cycle. 

But then his eyes fell upon a girl building a sand castle. He had to stare for a moment, certain his mind was playing tricks on him. It was the middle of the night, and yet there was a barefoot girl building a sand castle. She had to be about the same age as Zuko, but she looked so small, huddled into a small ball in the wide, empty bay. 

He crept closer, suddenly cautious. Why was this girl here? He had seen quite a few places with their own unique traditions, but he doubted playing on the beach on cool autumn night was a custom here. His hand rested on the hilts of his swords, ready to be drawn, and he balanced on the balls of his feet as he snuck towards her, slipping into his stealthy habits as easily as he would put on his favorite boots. 

Just over the waves, he could hear her soft voice. It was unsteady and airy, as though she had just finished crying. “... and here’s the bakery. It’s owned by Mr… Mr. Li” Her voice cracked. “He just moved to the town, and the queen made sure to tell him in person how everything would be ok…” She seemed to be adding the finishing touches to the building, but Zuko couldn’t quite see the castle.

“And here’s his house..!”Her voice was tinted with forced cheerfulness. “It has to be extra large, since his family’s going to joining him soon!”

Zuko couldn’t make sense of her ramblings, but the way her voice wavered, the way her dry eyes were locked on her castle, blocking out the rest of the would, clawed at his heart. It felt so familiar, so personal. Memories of the palace after his mother came to mind, and he tried to push them down, but watching this girl… do whatever she was doing, it was impossible for him to ignore the feelings that raked his chest.

Suddenly, a wave rushed forward, and washed away the carefully made citadel. The walls seemed to do nothing to protect the sand village, nor the girl’s emotions, as her muttering became unintelligible sobbing. She cupped her face in her hand, masking herself from the world, and gently shook, either from her wailing or from the cold. 

Zuko’s hand dropped from his sword, and he walked towards her. What was he doing? His leg carried him on his own, despite his mind screaming to turn around. He stopped right behind the crumpled up girl, and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Why was he doing this? Was he stupid? What was he trying to do, comfort this girl he’s never met before? This was a horrible idea that couldn't end well. But his body ignored the way his mind screamed at it, seemingly deciding that this was the one time it would choose what they would do.

The girl’s weeping slowed, and Zuko felt his chest ease. She wiped the snot and tears from her face, and hesitated for a moment, before looking up at him with a weak smile. A thankful smile, which quickly fell from her face. It was replaced by wide, fearful eyes, and the quick movement of sand flying at him. The sand slammed against him without any hesitance, sending Zuko stumbling backwards, trying to get the sand out of his mask. 

“W-who are you?!” The girl shouted, staggering away from him with the grace of a three legged komodo-rhino. 

Zuko didn’t respond, coughing and wiping the sand out from underneath his mask. 

“Who are you?” She repeated, stamping her foot and punching forward, throwing a hasty ball of sand and him. Great, a bender. Zuko managed to roll and dodge, but his mind was still reeling, unable to comprehend what he was supposed to do. Of course this would happen, he knew, but his body seemed to not move with the needed urgency. Perhaps this was his mind’s way of saying ‘I told you so,’ thought it couldn’t come at a less convenient time.

“I’m...” He coughed, “I’m not here to hurt you.” He had no idea what he was saying. He had no idea why he was talking to her, actually. Probably not to hurt her, though. 

“Then what are you here for?” All that vulnerability and weakness from moments before was gone, the only trace of it being the slight redness in her eyes. She held a strong pose, her feet wide, but even in his chaotic state of mind, Zuko could tell it wasn’t a comfortable stance for her. Not a natural one, at least. 

“For…” His mind stumbled, unsure. “For the Avatar.” The air was quiet for a moment, neither of them moving, but the girl’s eyes narrowed. 

Imbecile! Of all the things he could’ve said, he said that? Right after the girl’s village was attack by his men? Was there any way to be less subtle? Oh, Agni, this wasn’t going to go well.

“What do you want with him, huh?” She sounded defensive, almost possessive. “You a firebender too? Here to make some more ashes?”

Zuko furrowed his eyebrows, and stood a bit taller. Get a grip. This girl was aggressive, and he had to respond in kind.

“No, I’m here to help the Avatar.” He paused for a moment, gauging her wary reaction. “I followed the Fire Nation here, in order to protect him.”

“Uh-huh.” She began slowly circling him. “Drop the swords.”

Zuko hesitated. She was an earthbender, and his swords were his main defence without his bending. But then again… she hardly seemed well trained. Her feet were too close together, and her stance was all messed up. She looked like she was trying to waterbend, more than anything…

He tossed the swords onto the gray sand. “Anything else?”

“The mask.”

“No.”

There was no pause where he thought about it. There was no reason. He wasn’t going to remove it. But the girl didn’t seem to appreciate his steadfast nature. 

“Hiding somethin’, ain’tcha? I can’t trust someone who won’t show me their face.”

Zuko took a moment before he responded this time. He couldn’t exactly say ‘I’m the son of the firelord,’ could he? 

“I have a large scar. One that most people don’t like seeing.”

“I’ve probably seen worse today alone.” Her voice was dry and pragmatic.

“... Possibly.” He licked his lips under his mask as the girl passed behind him. She reemerged on his other side quickly, though, as though confirming his mask was still their.

“...”

“...”

“Fine then.” She stamped her foot, knocking him to the ground. He gasped and lost his balance, falling on his butt. “What’s your name?”

“... Blue Spirit.” He rubbed the back of his head, massaging where his head hit the sand.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m not an idiot. Actual name, not whatever pseudonym you tell your heartbroken lovers.” 

Zuko sputtered for a moment. “M-my what?”

“Name.”

“No, the other thing!”

“Name. now.” She left no room for negotiation, her words simple but forceful.

He was unsure what to say. He never really went by any other name before. Kuzon? Too Fire Nation like. Lau? That was a normal name, right? But that was the name of a really weird merchant up north… Why was that important? “Uh, Lee. I guess.”

“Well, ‘Lee, I guess,’ you have a long way to go before I take you to the Avatar.” 

“You-” he shot up, and she jumped back, surprised by the sudden burst of movement. “You know where the Avatar is?” His voice was half excited, half desperate.

“I ain’t telling you, if that’s your question.” Her accent, distinctly Southern Earth Kingdom, was unrefined, messy and stupid sounding compared to the way people spoke in the Fire Nation Capital, but the cool intelligence in her eyes, and the dangerous edge to her voice proved that she was neither dumb nor careless. The way she carried herself was cautious but not afraid, inexperienced but not inept. Zuko had no idea what she understood or was prepared for, and it set him on edge. “So, answer me this, why exactly are you so intent on helpin’ him?”

These were not questions he was prepared for; actually, he wasn’t prepared for this entire conversation. “What does it matter? Who wouldn’t want to help the Avatar?”

“Quite a few, if that ship there on the horizon has any say.” Her jerked her head towards Zuko’s cruiser. “And you look like the untrustworthy type, I’d say.”

Zuko held back a low growl, but behind his mask, his glare hardened. Of course the one time he trips up on his emotions, it had to be with the girl that seemed willing to tear his head off. He could already hear Azula’s snickering in the back of his head.

‘Oh Zuzu, you’re so predictable. Always trying to play the hero’

“It doesn’t matter if you trust me, the Avatar is in danger. That ship isn’t leaving anytime soon.” Zuko was lying through his teeth, his voice low and sharp. He was never a good liar, but he wasn’t in a situation where he could even consider telling the truth. “The prince would rather burn down your village than let the Avatar escape.”

“Then I just need to tell him the Avatar already left.” The girl’s voice was flat, betraying no emotions. 

“Good luck with that.” Zuko’s palms were sweaty, despite the arctic air. “He’s almost as suspicious of other people as you are.”

Her eyebrows twitched, her mouth contorting into an irritated scowl. “You seem to know a lot about this prince.”

Zuko swallowed. “You learn a lot about someone after following them for a few years. It’s important to know exactly what you’re dealing with.” The irony of that statement, considering how unprepared his men were the Avatar, was not lost to Zuko, or at least not the part of him that always seemed to be laughing at his mistakes.

“This guy’s been out here for years? Looking for the Avatar?” She seemed genuinely surprised, but she tried and conceal it under a layer of disdain.

“Just as long as I have been, at least.”

“How long’s that been?”

“... Too long.”

She snorted, and relaxed her stance. “Well, ain’t you the mysterious type. I’m obviously not going to pry any answer out of you like this.” She took a few steps back, getting well out of his reach, but her eyes never broke from his mask. He could feel them boring into him, as though she could see right through the old wood and cracked paint. 

Zuko just sat there on the ground for a moment, watching her with a distrustful gaze, until she groaned and hesitantly kicked his swords towards him. “Calm down, I’m not gonna bite. Just keep away from the Avatar.”

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” He cautiously reached forward and plucked the two blades off the ground, before sheathing them and taking a few steps back as well. “You don’t seem competent enough in earthbending to make a proper sandcastle, let alone fight me.”

The girl leered at him. “Well, you seemed plenty scared of me a moment ago. And, believe it or not, I’m being taught to control my bending by the Avatar himself.”

“Congratulations,” Zuko secured his bag to his back, and scanned the beach. All he needed to do was distract her long enough to get to his ship, and then he’d be home free. “So he’s either an awful teacher, or you’re a terrible student.”

Despite him knowing that he could easily escape this, his heart tugged in different directions. The easiest option would be to knock her out and escape, but what would be the point? Where would he go from their? The sick, twisted feeling from earlier returned to his stomach. But this girl obviously knew at least where the Avatar was hiding, and so another part of him wanted to see if he could use that.

But he doubted that she would willingly tell him, and the thought of forcing it out of her… He shivered, and ignored that idea. And even if she did show him, how in Agni’s name was he supposed to catch him? The Avatar was a force of nature, and when Zuko imagined him fighting that beast, even with his swords and bending… He ignored that idea too.

“Well, aren’t you all high and mighty?” The girl sneered at Zuko, and dropped back into a bending position. “You think you know a lot about earth bending, huh?”

“No,” Zuko found his boat; it was past the girl, on the other side of the bay. He internally swore. “But I know enough to recognize when someone’s doing it wrong. You look like you’re trying to waterbend.” 

He took a step towards her, and she took a step back. Zuko grit his teeth; getting to his boat would be a long process. He was itching to take out his blades, but his gut stopped him. Even with a shroud of irritation looming over his mind, the sigh of this girl, curled up and crying on the sand, forced its way into his consciousness.

She quirked an eyebrow at his comment. “What do you mean, I look like a waterbender?”

“Your movements were…” He struggled for a moment, attempting to put his finger on it. “... too smooth. You were trying to guide the earth with your hands, rather than command it and bend it to your will.” While he didn’t feel like helping her improve her bending would help him in the long run, any conversation that didn’t involve her interrogating him was a helpful, if annoying, situation. He took slow steps towards her, and she shifted to the side, her eyes locked on him.

“You seem to know a lot about different bending styles.” Her words carried a cautious mix of reluctant curiosity and lingering distrust.

Despite his focus being on his slow steps, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was a dry laugh, the type that was completely devoid of amusement and humor. You could say that, after all. Not many people could claim to be as thoroughly beaten by as many types of benders as him. Firebenders, Mo Ce and Chin style earthbenders, sandbenders, waterbenders from both poles... the list was a long one.

“I’ve been around the world several times over.” His voice was bitter, even tired. “I’ve had to learn a few things. Things that peasants wouldn’t understand.”

She rolled her eyes at that last point, but continued to follow Zuko in his slow, mundane dance, keeping her distance. “Well, it seems I underestimated you, your majesty, but I doubt you’re much more than a peasant yourself. If you would be kind enough to tone down your sense of superiority, that would be appreciated.”

Zuko grunted, but held his tongue, too focused on his ship to start new conversation. He was halfway there…

The girl’s eyes shifted back and forth across the beach, but quickly returned to watching Zuko. She scowled, and stopped, standing her ground and placing her hands on her hips. “Fine, I’m tired of all of this circling. You wanna go to you boat, go on ahead.”

Zuko froze in his tracks, his heart stopping for a moment. “W-what?”

The girl sighed, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Look, I’ve been up for almost two days straight, I just had an argument with my family, and on top of all of that, there’s a Fire Nation ship floating over there.” She jerked her head at the horizon, outside the bay. “After everything that's happened, I think a mysterious guy in a blue mask who just wants to get to his boat is not an issue I want to deal with. So just skedaddle, ok?” Even in the thin light, Zuko could see the dark bags under her eyes, and the steel in chocolate eyes told him that she wasn’t going to listen to any objections.

But if there was still any chance that the Avatar was still here… 

“And if I come back?” He felt stupid for asking, as though he was just asking for trouble, but in the end, the Avatar was his one chance to please his father. His one ticket home.

The girl let out a coarse, weary sound that didn’t seem like it should be possible to come from her small frame. “Then I’ll deal with you then.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke the only sounds coming from the waves and wind. Zuko didn’t know what to say. Leaving was surrendering, but staying was bound to just cause issues. The girl was just staring at him, her eyes sharp and the gears in her head spinning at full throttle. He felt like he was losing a fight he didn’t even know had been started. 

He clenched his fists, and took a small step back, towards his ship. He had nothing to gain now; tonight was just another failure. He had to get back to his ship. Maybe uncle would know what to do, but more likely than not, the old man would just want to play Pai Sho and waste life away. But then again, what other options did Zuko really have. With his head hung low, he took another few steps, and turned on his heel. 

“You know what, no!” The boat still seemed too far away when the girl called out to him, and he felt the sand under his feet seem to melt away, tripping him. 

He scrambled around, just in time to see the girl close the distance between the two of them. He might be Zuko, future Firelord and heir to the most powerful throne in the world, but in that moment, he felt true terror. Because of an earthbending peasant girl, no less.

She squatted down in front of him, yet still seemed to loom over him. “You wanna meet the Avatar? You’re gonna come back tomorrow.”

It seemed every time Zuko thought the night was over, it only seemed to become crazier. “You’ll take me to him?”

“Tomorrow?” She flicked his mask, tired to the point that her sense of fear was null and void. “Spirits no. But when you gain my trust, yeah. My village has the Fire Nation breathing down its neck, and the Avatar is our only chance at beating them in the long run. I don’t trust you as far as could throw you, but you seem to know a lot about the people on that ship, and if you actually want to help the Avatar, we need all the help we can get.”

“So…” Zuko took a moment to wrap his mind around what she said. “If I help you beat the Fire Nation, you’ll take me to the Avatar?”

She nodded curtly, and held out a hand. “Yep. Deal?”

Zuko was hesitant, but quickly swallowed his fear. This was his chance. He reached out and grasped her hand, which she firmly shook. 

“Good. And your name?”

“... I’m still Lee.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that. I’m Qiuhua.”

 

A/N: Heya, everybody! So, here’s the first chapter for these two: Boy meets girl, girl attacks boy, boy tries to escape… *longing sigh* How romantic… I have no intention of having these two love each other right off the bat, just as warning. I love fluff just as much as the next guy, possibly more if my love of rom-coms has taught me anything, but a slow-burn romance can be a piece of art. Perks to “Gladiator,” by Seyary-Minamoto, I love that fic. Does a good job at a pairing I really didn’t expect.

Sorry I’m a bit later than usual, I decided to take a bit of a rest; I took a day to just chill, binge some anime, and eat some good food (there’s some really good Chinese food where I live, so how can I not appreciate it?). I’m thinking of just switching my update day to Thursday, since it seems to be when I update anyway. Hope you guys like the chapter! Feel free to comment any thoughts, critiques, or things I need to fix!


	5. Chapter 5

Iroh had never been an early riser.

Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was never a fast riser. He did wake up early, rising with the sun just like many on the ship, but unlike his more energetic nephew, it took Iroh much longer to prepare. He wasn’t vain about his looks; he chuckled to himself, knowing that even if he was, he would have long since lost that battle. But he enjoyed taking his time. A warm bath to loosen his old joints, a warm cup of Ginseng tea to ease his breathing; just like how the morning air took time to warm under the rising sun, Iroh took time to get ready for the day, much unlike some of the younger members of the crew. 

In fact, his nephew was often one of, if not the first one awake and working on the ship. It made Iroh proud in some ways, to see how Zuko had grown over the past few years. He still had plenty to learn, and Iroh often worried about how angry and conflicted his nephew was, but over their travels the young man had become more and more involved in running and maintaining the ship, going from just a prince to a true captain. He would awake early in the morning, just before dawn, and begin plotting their course for the day, do an inspection of the ship and the crew, and review their supplies, all before breakfast. He had become truly studious, working day in and day out.

But that only made the old general frown, concern in his eyes. The pale autumn sun hung in the cloudless blue sky, continuing to rise as the crew went about their morning tasks. Iroh sat on the deck, a half-full bowl of lukewarm rice porridge in one hand, and a Pai Sho tile in the other. Years ago, an Earth Kingdom merchant had taught him a game one could play on their own, using nothing more than a set of Pai Sho tiles and a bit of spare time. He made a ritual of playing it in the early hours of the day, while he watched the young prince practice and hone his bending, but the prince was nowhere to be seen. 

“Um, General,” A young man, only a few years older than his nephew, paused in front of where Iroh sat and smiled nervously. “Do you know where Prince Zuko is?”

“Come, join me while you wait.” Iroh smiled kindly at the young soldier, and gestured towards the pillow on the other side of the table. “I am not sure, however, I believe he will awake soon. It is not like my nephew to sleep so late.”

The man smiled graciously, and joined Iroh at the low table. “That’s definitely true. He’s a workaholic, if I’ve ever seen one.”

Iroh chuckled, and nodded. “That is most certainly the case. But I believe it is his way of showing that he appreciates the crew’s hard work.”

“Well that’s good!” The soldier gave the general a goofy smile. “If he didn’t, then I would’ve wasted six years mopping the deck!”

The two men both laughed, but a bit of sadness tinged Iroh’s voice. Ultimately, The young soldier was correct on that; Hachiro had been sixteen when he was assigned to the prince’s voyage, fresh out of basic training, but even he had known that the ship wasn’t supposed to come back. And now, he spent his mornings training with Iroh’s nephew, as if trying to make up for the friends he never got the chance to meet while at sea. 

Hachiro settled down, and watched the old man play his game in comfortable silence. A few minutes passed, and Iroh set down his now empty bowl. A tile clicked on the wooden table, and the calming sounds of the wind blowing and waves breaking against the ship were only occasionally interrupted by crewmen chatting or grunting as they did their daily chores. The men had plenty to grumble about, of course; It had been a few weeks since they had drawn into port, and some supplies were starting to run low, in particular the various alcohols that were now on a strict ration. Iroh smiled and shook his head. His nephew would be hard-pressed to make his crew stay at sea any longer if their supply of drinks ran out.

“Ah, there he is.” Hachiro waved at the young prince, and Iroh looked up from his game to see him. “Morning, sunshine.”

Zuko scowled, and joined them at the table. “Treat your superiors with respect.” Hachiro gave the young prince an apologetic smile, and scooted over, giving the prince his space.

“Good morning, Nephew.” Iroh gave a welcoming grin, and put his tiles on the table. “Have you eaten breakfast this morning?”

“No, and I don’t need it.” Zuko’s voice was completely deadpan as he looked out across the bow of the ship, his eyes watching the mountainous coast with cold focus. “I just need to train.”

“Ah, but a young man such as yourself needs a full belly just as much as he needs training!” Iroh laughed heartily, but Zuko didn’t even glance towards his uncle. Iroh’s laughter concealed his worry; he could see the gears turning behind his nephew’s eyes, and had no doubt who the young man’s thoughts were focused on. Capturing the Avatar had been his goal for years; he had just come closer than ever before, too. 

“Then I’ll eat afterwards. I’m already behind schedule for the day.” Zuko pushed himself up from the table, and stripped off his loose red shirt, exposing his bare chest to the crisp air. “Petty Officer Nakamura, get up.”

Hachiro groaned and stretched, rising to his feet. “Of course, Prince. How do you want to exhaust me today?”

“Sparring.” Zuko’s ignored the man’s quip, and Iroh watched his nephew closely. The prince’s eyes had bags under them, his tangled hair was haphazardly tied up in a topknot, and his face had just the barest layer of untrimmed stubble. The old general restrained a scowl, and stroked his beard.

“Got it.” Hachiro nodded, and pulled off his chest armor, before joining the prince farther up the deck. The two of them faced each other, their stances wide and strong as both of them sized up their opponent. Zuko’s weary gaze became dark and predatory, while Hachiro’s thin lips, usually twisted in a casual smile, were instead pressed into a narrow line.

Zuko moved first, sweeping low with a scythe-like crescent of fire, but Hachiro leaped over the attack, and rolled to one side, easily dodging. Iroh shifted on his pillow into a more comfortable position, appearing distracted as he continued to place his tiles on the table, but his hands were merely moving out of habit. He watched the men duel closely, letting his other worries fade to the back of his mind as he watched the two men push back and forth against each other like the cresting waves, picking apart their movements and mistakes. 

The two of them had long since stopped making basic mistakes; Hachiro was naturally athletic, and Zuko was far from unpracticed. While neither had the prodigal levels of bending Iroh heard the princess had developed since they had left the Fire Nation, the two practiced daily under the old man’s tutelage, and Iroh had been careful to nudge their bending in the right direction. And that's all it truly was: a nudge. Bending was an expression of themselves, and so forcing them to bend differently would be forcing them to change themselves. 

But, nudges could only do so much, and watching the two, Iroh understood they both had much to learn. Zuko had learned much over his years at sea, but Iroh noted that he still consistently overextended himself during the spar. He would step too far forward, attack too aggressively, and near the end, throw out sloppy and desperate attacks. Hachiro, as well, was still struggling. The young man was defensive and evasive, easily avoiding Zuko’s attack, but was unwilling to strike out at the holes in Zuko’s defences. As such, the duel played out much like many others Iroh had seen between the two, with Hachiro eventually failing to dodge an attack.

Zuko’s high kick, wild and unbalanced, caught Hachiro’s leg as he jumped, causing the soldiers face to meet the unyielding metal deck. Zuko spared no time, jumping on top of the soldier and straddling him, one hand on the man’s throat and the other clutching a ball of flame. 

Hachiro struggled briefly, but Zuko was relentless, only putting more weight on the man’s neck. Finally, Hachiro rapped his hand against Zuko’s forearm, and bucked with one last burst of energy. “Yield, yield!” His voice was small and weak, lacking enough air to speak clearly. Zuko released the man’s neck, and rolled to the side, letting out a relieved sigh. Despite the chilly air, the two were both doused in sweat. 

“Nephew, you were too aggressive.” Iroh said nonchalantly, setting the last tile in place. A perfect Lotus configuration.

Zuko grunted, and pushed himself up, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I won.”

“But you left yourself exposed, like a badger-fox chasing a deer through an open field.” Iroh began stacking the tiles, a satisfied smile on his face as he placed each painted tile on top of the other. “Should it have been another badger-fox you were facing, they surely would have struck when you were vulnerable.”

Zuko clicked his tongue, and his eyebrows twitched. “You’ve said that for years now, Uncle.”

Iroh simply shrugged, and chuckled. “Perhaps I am out of wisdom, then, my nephew!

 

Zuko rolled his eyes, and stood up, his eyes still locked on the shore. “Petty officer, another round.”

Hachiro gave an exhausted sigh, and pushed himself onto his elbows. “Yep, on it, sir.” 

“Prince!” A crewman burst through the hatch to the main tower, his clothes in disarray and clutching a piece of paper in his hand. “Prince, it’s a message from the shore crew!”

“Yes?” Zuko didn’t make a move towards the soldier, his voice stiff. Iroh watched the prince’s reaction, curious. His nephew was nothing if not brash and quick to devour any information that might even have the slightest connection to the Avatar. Yet he was instead completely composed, ignoring how sweat-drenched he was.

“Well, uh, we got it last night, and I should’ve reported it to you then, but I was with…” The man rambled on with various excuses, but Zuko did not interrupt, simply listening. How odd of his nephew...

“A-anyway, the message…”

“Spit it out.” Zuko finally spoke, his typical impatience finally revealing itself. Was the prince finally trying to be more patient? The old general had his doubts, but would certainly support it, were it the case.

“Half of the shore crew had been attacked by the Avatar last night.” The soldier’s voice was weak, and he was trying to look anywhere but the prince’s cold eyes. “The men were brought to the town center to rest, but some of them need medical attention.”

The messenger fell silent, and braced himself for the prince’s wrath. But it didn’t come; the prince closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as though holding back a stream of words behind his tight lips and furrowed brow.

“Have there been any more messages since this one?” Zuko finally spoke, without a drop of surprise or anger in his voice. He sounded tired, even annoyed, as though it had been news he had been expecting. Hopefully, this wasn’t Zuko believing that failure was his natural state. Iroh had seen people give into that before, and he did not want to ever see it happen again.

“Uh, no sir.” The soldier’s anxiousness quickly became confusion, seeming unprepared for a calm reaction. 

“I see.” The prince ran his hand through his long hair, straightening his thick bangs. “Prepare a ship for me. Petty Officer Nakamura, you are to accompany me to shore. Every village has someone who practices basic medicine, so we’ll use them.”

The soldier nodded curtly and surried below deck, going to prepare the landing craft, while Hachiro gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Iroh watched his nephew gather up his things, the old general’s eyes wide at the pleasant surprise. “That was quite the well measured response, Prince Zuko. Did something happen?”

Zuko wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt, and gave his uncle an irritated look. “Maybe your endless amount of cheesy metaphors has finally reached me.”

Iroh gave a toothy grin, ignoring his nephew’s tone. “That’s wonderful! Perhaps I should help you by saying them more often.”

 

Zuko rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother with a reply, instead marching below deck, bound for his room. “I’m going to search for the Avatar on my own today. I’ll be back at some point tonight.”

Iroh watched his nephew go below deck, watching him closely. Had he grown yet again? Iroh hoped so. But his dark gold eyes lingered on the prince’s back, and more specifically on the flurry of long, thin scars flayed across his back. It had taken the South Pole to make the boy realize things can go horribly wrong, and the Si Wong desert only reinforced that. He hoped Zuko wouldn’t have to learn a similar lesson here.

\-------

Zuko stepped onto the rotting dock, the wood creaking under his gold trimmed leather boots. Well, nominally gold trimmed; after years at sea, the gold coloring had cracked and faded, leaving nothing more than a dull ghost of the color.

The sun was nearing its peak, and the air had long since lost its chill, instead lingering in a zone that was too warm to be wintery, but too cold to be comfortable for the hot blooded firebender. If nothing else, he was begrudgingly grateful for his thick, and thus warm, black armor. 

Petty Officer Nakamura stepped onto the dock with him, standing just far enough behind the prince to be respectful of his authority. Zuko had mixed feelings towards the man. Nakamura seemed to always be pushing the limits of respect, falling in line with Uncle’s idea that the two should be friends, which irritated Zuko to no end. He was a prince, and Nakamura was a soldier; their relationship didn’t need to go any farther than that. Yet, at the same time, Zuko had to acknowledge that the petty officer was loyal and hardworking, traits that were hard not to appreciate. 

Of course, Zuko couldn’t say that to his face. He had appearances to maintain, obviously, and the man was already annoying enough without a full head.

“So, what the plan?” Nakamura looked around the bay, finally having a chance to look at it without earthbenders trying to kill him.

Zuko held himself back from chiding the man for his casual tone, despite the slight against his pride. He had more important issues at hand. “First, we find my men and get them treated. I want a squad to do a sweep of the drier lands to the north-east of the bog; if the avatar was to flee, he’d probably go there.” He strut off the dock, and began up the dirt path to the village.

“Understood.” Nakamura followed close behind, his voice muffled by his skull-like mask. “Who’s going to be in the sweep?”

“That depends on who’s not injured.” Zuko said plainly, too distracted with his own thoughts to give a full answer. Nakamura nodded in understanding, and remained silent as they walked through the evergreen forest. Zuko notice the soldier had become adept at knowing when to leave the prince to his thoughts, although it had taken him several years to reach that point. The soldier had been even more chatty and less restrained when he had first been exiled, which had initially led to Zuko disdaining the older boy. 

The sweep, for all intents and purposes, wasn’t meant to succeed. Of course, if they did manage to find the Avatar’s new hiding place and report it back to Zuko, all the better, since he was not looking forward to dealing with the girl he had met last night. Chohua? Qiuhua? Something like that. Regardless, he could tell she wasn’t stupid, and considering his past, he had little faith in his abilities to pretend to be someone else. The entire persona of the Blue Spirit was secrecy and stealth, a costume more than a character. So having to pretend to be a protector of the Avatar? That wasn’t going to go well.

And besides, she had requested his help. He had accepted the deal, seeing the chance to capture the Avatar, but he was just starting to realize he had no idea what that entailed. Was she wanting him to fight his own men? If that was what it took to capture the Avatar, he would, but it was not something he wanted. His eyes were locked firmly on the ground in front of him, his body walking on its own as the prince’s mind sorted through the thoughts.

All of these thoughts were still lingering just below the surface when the two reached the village center. A gentle wind blew from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and water, and the dark firs shifted in the breeze. From the village center, a few people could be seen moving around, showing some signs of normality since the attack two days ago. But the village still felt quite empty to Zuko, who was used to the packed bazaars of the Western Earth Colonies and the crowded markets of seemingly even the smallest villages lining the Mo Ce sea. There were some people working in small fields, harvesting their crop, and an old woman making noodles out of dough while trying to also keep track of a young child. But the village center itself, an empty patch of rocky mud with a few tufts of green grass, was filled to the brim with men dressed in black armor. Most were sprawled on the ground, or leaning against the sparse outcroppings of trees and rocks, resting, either out of exhaustion or injuries. Of the dozen and a half men in the center, only five were awake and active, standing guard or tending to the small fire they had built to keep the injured ones warm. 

He stepped between and over his soldiers, headed for the campfire, and held back the scowl that tugged at his lips. From what he could see at a glance, his men all had far more than their fair share of bruises, and a few had their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He wanted to take far more than a glance at them, but restrained himself; he was a prince, not a healer, and thus his place was to be above his soldiers, not looking them over for injuries. His concern lingered at the back of his mind, though, clinging weakly but tirelessly to the edge of his consciousness no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

“Chief Yoshida!” Zuko called out, making sure his voice was stern and demanded respect.

“Prince Zuko!” The man tending to the fire turned and saluted the prince, his back stiff and straight. His face was hidden by his white mask, but the tips of his helmet spikes were black, marking him as one of the three chief petty officers on Zuko’s ship. “I was afraid that you had not gotten my message.”

“At ease. I would have been here sooner, but the communications officer refrained from informing me until recently. I would have arrived sooner otherwise.” His voice was low and bitter, not unlike a weasel-snake. “Status report.”

Chief Yoshida cleared his throat, and stood a bit straighter. “Prior to us changing shifts, Lieutenant Jee’s force was ambushed by the avatar. The soldiers that have come to told us the avatar was alone, but was too fast for them to hit him. The Avatar took everything in the house, and, uh...”

Zuko nodded wearily and glared at the soldier, his patience already wearing thin already. He couldn’t say it, but these were all things he already knew. “The injury report, chief. Who’s injured, and how badly?”

“Well, none of it is certain, since none of us are medically knowledgeable, but…” The chief stumbled over his words, organizing his thoughts. Zuko’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. Yoshida did his job well, but he wished the man knew how to talk without thinking through every single word. “There are four with either broken or fracture bones, possibly half a dozen with sprained or twisted joints. Petty officers Kondo and Ota both had dislocated shoulders, but we were able to force it back into place.” Yoshida paused at the thought, visibly uncomfortable even from the other side of his mask. 

“And others..?” Zuko’s watched him dryly. He had too much to do to just waste time waiting for this man to get over his discomfort.

“Uh, yes.” Yoshida swallowed his uneasiness, and continued. “Almost all of them have scratches and bruises, as well as frostbite.”

Not to mention plenty of exhaustion, Zuko added to himself. Yoshida looked like he was struggling just to stay on his feet, swaying precariously on the balls of his feet now that he was no longer saluting. HIs men needed rest, more than anything. He could still send a small group to the plains in the north-east, but that would only tire them more, not to mention put them in even more danger if the Avatar was there. He clicked his tongue impatiently, and narrowed his eyes, looking at nothing in particular as he evaluated his options. 

He wanted to send his troops, he wouldn’t lie to himself, but he also knew that might be too hasty. Uncle was always saying he was too aggressive, after all, and despite being a tea-drinker with a penchant for mundane flowers, the man was also the Dragon of the West. He internally bemoaned himself. The prince had been forced to listen to Uncle for so long that he couldn’t even ignore the man in the confines of his own mind. 

“Have you found the village healer?” Zuko doubted the healer would willingly cooperate, but he could hope for good luck. Well, it would be more like ‘daydreaming of’ rather than ‘hoping for,’ considering his past.

“Ah, well, yes, but... she refused to see us.”

“Of course.” He grimaced. “Show me where she is. She doesn’t get a choice in the matter.”

“Yessir.” Yoshida nodded curtly and turned, walking in the direction of the supposed healer. Zuko looked towards Nakamura and jerked his head, before following Yoshida. 

The three walked quickly through the village, Zuko’s strides fast and focused. They soon arrived at the house with the gazebo, which Zuko immediately recognized. While he was used to healers living in smaller huts or temples, but he supposed there were many types of people around the Earth Kingdom. They were all peasants, of course, but still many types.

Zuko took the lead as they passed through the gate, his two masked soldiers falling in step behind him. Intimidation was key, and being flanked by the two would certainly help. He supposed that, if there was any reason for him to be thankful for his scar, it was that it made him look like a monster, and few people could look him in the eye without fear.

He banged on the wooden door with his fist, as subtle and polite as a komodo-rhino. “Open up!”

An older woman with sandy brown hair, possibly in her forties, looked down from a second story window, and seemed to his at the sight of Fire Nation Soldiers. “I’m not going to use help your men! I already told you!” She slammed the shutters shut, not willing to say anything more.

Zuko gave a low growl, and clenched his teeth. He had run into this type before, and they were a pain to deal with. “If you don’t open this door, we’ll open it for you!”

He waited a few moments, but there was no response. “Fine then.” He snorted, and looked at Yoshida and Nakamura, silently conveying his orders. 

The door was apparently quite old, or at least quite weak, considering how the frame offered almost no resistance. The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Zuko’s foot made contact with the door, and it flew open with ease. Zuko sneered. Why did the woman even bother locking it? A child could’ve kicked it down.

At the other end of the hallway, the woman rushed down the stairway, a large jin sword in her hands. She was a small woman, at least a head shorter than the prince, but she had a vicious look in her eyes, like a rabid animal. “Get the hell out of my home, ashmaker!”

The firebenders fell into their well-practiced stances, smoothly stalking down the hallway like a pack of wolves. The woman held her ground at the end of the hallway, her eyes darting between the three intruders. She held the sword as best she could, but it was obvious that she was no fighter; her hands were shaking, her stance was too wide and too low, the sword was far too heavy for her. 

“Now, this isn’t a very polite welcome.” Zuko smiled a shark-like grin, seeing the fear in her eyes. “How about you put down the sword, so we can talk in a dignified way?”

Intimidation, as always, was key.

\----------

Qiuhua was tending to the herb garden behind her house, picking a small crop to dry before winter came, when she heard the banging against the door on the other side of the house. She flinched, almost dropping the clay bowl in her hands.

“Open up!” A man shouted, his tone aggressive and commanding. 

It was as if time froze. Behind the house, everything was still, with the girl frozen in her tracks. She heard her mom’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. The salty wind fluttered through the pine needles, like the gently calling of a spirit searching for something it had long since lost, and her feet sunk slightly into the soft dirt as she shifted her weight. She heard wooden shutters slam shut, and she gulped down the bile gathering in her throat.

When the firebenders had come last night, she had been deathly afraid. The Blue Spirit, whoever he was, had promised to help her, but that wouldn’t matter if the fire nation soldiers took him first. She had hid just out of their sight, watching her mom turn them away at the door. They claimed that they just wanted medical treatment, but Qiuhua doubted it was anything more than a trap. And even if it was, she had no qualms with her mom turning away those men. They had put Mr. Li on the doorstep of the spirit realm after all, so they didn’t deserve any help. And it seemed that her mom hadn’t even given them the honor of opening the door this time, thank the spirits.

“If you don’t open this door, we’ll open it for you!” The man shouted again, but there was no reply. Relief flooded her tense limbs, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. They could shout and howl all they want, but her mother wasn’t anything if not stubborn.

But all of that relief quickly turned into fear when she heard wood splinter. It was a stiff, sharp sound, like the tearing of parchment, but a dozen times louder and faster. 

She didn’t think. Her mind didn’t bother with it; she just moved. She threw the bowl to the ground, and sprinted back the the house, slamming the door open. Her feet slapped against the wooden panel floor, and she turned the corner to the main hallway-

Just to barely catch herself on the doorframe in time to not run face first into a soldier. She skidded to a halt, her blood roaring in her ears, and her eyes flicking back and forth at the scene in front of her. 

Her mom stood on the other side of a wall of firebenders, their wide shoulders and tall stature almost blocking Qiuhua’s view. The woman, her jade colored robes giving her thin frame at least a scant amount of width, still seemed hopelessly small when standing against the three soldiers. But Qiuhua had seen that look in her mother’s eye before, the vicious glare of someone who would rather fight to an inch of her life than stand down.

Her mother held the family sword in her hands, a well crafted blade that had been wielded by every man to ever lead Huisha. It seemed too large to be brandished by the woman, but she held it out with firm, if shaky hands. 

And upon the girl’s entrance, all eyes turned to the entrance where she stood.

Her mother’s eyes went wide, blatant fear peeking through her thin mask of control. “Qiuhua, get out of here! I’ll handle this!”

Qiuhua took an uncertain step back, her mind scrambling to gather her thoughts, but the choice was made for her.

A rough hand grabbed her loose shirt, and dragged her back into the hallway. She grasped and clawed at the hand, half coherent wimpers escaping her throat and she struggled, but the masked soldier holding her simply pulled harder, twisting her arm and kicking the backs of her knees. Her legs gave out, and the man pulled her into the hallway, holding her arms behind her back.

“Now, what do we have here?” She heard the voice from before, but now it was smoother, more controlled. She continued to struggle, but the soldier didn’t budge, holding her in place as she was inspected by the man.

“Let her go.” Mom’s voice was a low growl, carrying an unspoken threat.

“I think not.” The man said plainly, leaning closer. Qiuhua’s heart pounded in her throat, and her breath hitched when she saw his face. 

He was a tall man, perhaps a few years older than her, but definitely still young. He had long, thick locks of black hair that tumbled down the back and sides of his head like dark waterfalls, and he had a messy topknot secured by a golden band. He had a clean shaven face and a strong jawline, not to mention pale, piercing gold eyes that seemed to watch her with a unnerving mix of curiosity and surprise. But what caught her attention more than all of his obvious Fire Nation traits, was the scar. 

The entire left side of his face, stretching from his slit-like eye to his jagged ear, was covered in gnarled, red flesh, with deep crevices and dark splotches. She squeezed her eyes shut, and twisted her head, futilely trying to get away from the firebender. She could feel his eyes travel over her, and heard his approving grunt. 

“Well, it seems we can strike a deal, peasant.” The firebender took a step back, and faced her mom. “You help my soldiers, and we make sure this girl stays in good health.”

Qiuhua’s saw her mother’s resolve waver, but it returned as instantly as it left. “Are you threatening to hurt my daughter?” 

The scarred man raised his one eyebrow, and took a confident step towards Mom. “As a prince, it is below my place to threaten someone. But keep this in mind:” 

He took another step, ignoring the way her mother gripped the blade even harder, her knuckles turning white. “You don’t get to say no. It’s not an option for you. I don’t care what your opinion is, because, like it or not, I could burn this entire village to the ground, and no one could stop me. I am not bargaining with you because I have no other choice; I’m bargaining with you because I think it would be a waste of resources to torture you into helping me. 

Qiuhua felt ice in her stomach. He was telling the truth, he didn’t threaten them; he just delivered an ultimatum. Watching the way her mom’s eyes went back and forth, between the scarred man her, Qiuhua felt sick. If only the Avatar was here… Or spirits, at least if she was strong enough to break out of this man’s grip. She tried to wiggle out of his arms, but it was no use.

“Well?” The man’s voice was flat and low, disdainful. 

Mom sucked in a harsh breath, but had no answer, clenching her jaw

The man sneered, and narrowed his eyes. He held his palm open, a wild orange flame blooming into existence where there previously was cool air, and he turned to Qiuhua. “I advise you decide soon whether or not you want to keep you daughter’s life.” He held the flame close enough to her face that she could feel the hot tongues licking hungrily at her cheek, and she let out a subdued cry, like a scared deer-puppy.

She wished she could just put the flame out. She wished she could push him away, or at least be strong enough that her life wasn’t just some gambling chip to him. But she was powerless to stop the chilling fear from creeping into her heart and infecting her mind. 

She heard the sound of metal clattering to the floor, like a dish shattering into a million shards.

“Fine, you win.” Her mom’s voice was bitter and angry, surrendering, but not defeated. “Let my daughter go.”

The scarred man clamped his fist closed, extinguishing the fire, and he looked between the two women. Qiuhua could see the wheels in his mind spinning, as though he had plenty still to calculate before letting her go. Oh spirits, please don’t take her away and lock her up or something as bartering material. Even ignoring her meeting with the Blue Spirit tonight, the last thing she wanted to be was a prisoner of the Fire Nation. Considering how this man was acting, he probably forced his prisoners to eat the rats they found on the ship.

But strangely enough, he simply looked at her for a moment, and his eyes softened. He watched her with a look of… could it be called empathy? Qiuhua didn’t know, her heartbeat still to fast for her her to think straight.

But the gentle look in his eyes dissipated, a soft cloud melting away in the sunlight to reveal a warmachine. “Fine. She has to stay in our camp while you care for our men, though.”

The soldier holding her let go, pushing her away. She stumbled, catching herself and scurrying away from the men. She stood just behind her mother, glaring at the scarred man. He glared back, not even bothering to hide his sense of superiority. 

He turned on his heel, and jerked his head towards the door. “Get a move on. I don’t have time to waste on stubborn peasants.”

Qiuhua knew the spirits didn’t approve of violence, but if they had been willing to give her just one chance, she had no doubt she’d use it to beat some sense into that ashmaker.

A/N: Good evenin’ all! Or, morning, or afternoon, or whenever you’re reading this. Just make it good, I suppose. I hope everyone had a great Christmas! I’m sorry I’m a day late, I decide to take Tuesday off and celebrate a bit. Did everyone enjoy the chapter? This was a bit more difficult to write, compared to the others, so I hope it turned out alright. (I planned WAY too much content for this chapter, so I had to split it in two.) 

Next chapter, we should get to Zuko and Qiuhua’s first “session,” and they’ll see what their partnership will entail. Hopefully, this will go better for Zuko than most things in life, the poor guy. (He says, after writing Zuko threaten to kill someone.)

For the glory of the Fire Nation, follow and comment!


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